


A Wildling Bastard

by TarotJoie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And fuck ALOT, Angst and Smut, Bael the Bard references, F/M, Jon is a Wildling now, King Beyond the Wall, Post Season 8, Queen in the North, Sansa thinks thats hot, They fight alot, This is a dirty one but also sweet, a bit of everything really, enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-03-29 19:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarotJoie/pseuds/TarotJoie
Summary: Four years have gone by and Sansa needs an heir. She meets with Jon to discuss the possibilities, but they are both still hurting from the events of the past.





	1. Castle Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa visits Jon with a request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut starts in chapter two

They agreed to meet at Castle Black, though she knew he was no longer living there. He’d only stayed for a short time to put things in order before heading north to help the Free Folk rebuild. And there he had stayed, these four years. He hadn’t written to her in all that time, but Sansa had a little bird of her own now and her brother - the King - had kept her updated on the whereabouts of the rest of her family, when she'd asked.

At first, it worried her that Jon decided to go live with the Wildings. Even with the Night King gone, there were all sorts of tales about what lay beyond the Wall. In truth, she mostly just worried she would never see him again. Eventually she stopped asking Bran to send word to her of Jon’s movements, unless of course he was in some sort of danger. He hadn’t been though. And as far as she could assume, he was happy with his new life.

It wasn’t until the Lords of the North started to bring up marriage that she decided to arrange a meeting with Jon. They'd started to drop hints that a five-year period of rule would be enough to establish her authority prior to marriage, but that the crown would eventually need an heir. Sansa knew they were right, but she still didn’t feel ready. Had she done enough to cement her power? Would the man she marries try to take her power? Would the Northerners let him? As much as she liked to think she had proven herself a good queen, and the proud head of House Stark, she was still a woman. She had no intention of letting her home and people fall into the hands of some lesser lord simply because he possessed a cock. She would go to war with her own husband if she had to, she just didn’t want it to come to that. The people had bled enough, and so had she.

She arrived at Castle Black before he did and the Lord Commander showed her to the newly rebuilt King’s Tower. After her handmaiden and guard had left her to her thoughts, Sansa paced the chamber back and forth, worrying her hands together. She tried to steady her heart, scolding herself for her nerves. It was only Jon, she told herself. _Jon._

A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. Assuming it was her guard come to check on her, she called out, “Come in.” Looking around the rest of the room, she noted the roaring fire and a smell that was so familiar to her. Was that what it had smelled like the last time she was here? She couldn’t remember.

“Sansa.”

His voice made her gasp as she spun around to see him standing in her open doorway. It took her a moment to believe it, to take in the sight of him, his beard, his hair, his sword. It really was him. Then suddenly she realized her mouth was hanging open and said, “You’re here.”

Jon seemed just as stunned as she was and he shook his head slightly before answering, “I thought I was supposed to be.”

“Yes,” she stammered, smiling slightly with embarrassment. “I just didn’t know you had arrived.”

He returned the smile, in equal slight measure, before turning to close the door behind him. Then they stared at each other a moment longer, until Sansa offered, “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too.” Jon’s tone was distant but kind. It was a strange feeling between them, perhaps what it might have been like if they had reunited all those years ago under different circumstances, nobody fleeing monsters or coming back from the dead. Just two strangers coming together, as they were now. “Are you well?”

Sansa nodded and then motioned for Jon to sit at the table in her chamber as she herself took a seat. He watched her, sitting straight-backed in his chair, and waited for her to begin.

“You broke your oath,” she said softly, just acknowledging it rather than passing judgement.

“Aye,” he muttered. “Is that why you wanted to meet me here? To pass the sentence?”

Her eyes darted to his sharply, offended, but then he gave her a smirk that told her it was only a joke.

“If you’d have checked, you would have seen that a pardon came for you a year after you were exiled.” There was a tone of resentment in her words, but she tried to cover it by adding, “I didn’t know where else to meet. It seemed like neutral territory.”

“Are we enemies at a parlay then? Is that what you think?” This time there was no jest in his voice.

“How am I supposed to know what to think, Jon?” She felt her tone rising but no longer tried to temper it. “I haven’t heard a word from you, in _four_ years.”

Jon opened his mouth as if to argue but came up short. A heavy sigh was all he could manage before his eyes abandoned her for the flames dancing in the hearth.

Sansa took a breath, too. She didn’t want it to be like this so she yielded. “I just wanted to know–”

“What?” His glare remained aimed at the fire.

“Are you alright? Are you happy.”

Jon looked back at her then and it nearly broke her heart. His eyes were full of rage, and then she saw them water slightly before he tightened his mouth and blinked away the threat. He sat up a little more and clenched both of his fists, looking down at the table between them.

“I’m fine,” he sniffed. “You didn’t arrange for us both to come all this way to ask me that.”

Tears threatened her too now, but his words reminded her of why she had come and that was more important than hurt feelings. So, she gathered her armor around her and spoke as if addressing a foreign dignitary in negotiations.

“You're right. There is another matter. I’ve been… that is, the Northern Lords have been increasingly concerned about the future of our position as an independent nation.”

“Why? Bran wouldn’t take up arms against you.”

“No, but his successor might. We’ve only just started to make progress with reconstruction and reforms, and though all is going well, the North remains vulnerable.”

“Sansa,” he interrupted, drawing her eyes back to his which were now filled with concern. “What is it the Northern Lords want?”

“They want me to marry, to birth an heir.” The words were harder to get out than she'd expected, and perhaps some of the fear she’d thought buried long ago had been exposed because Jon reached across the table and took her hand. The action shocked her and she stared at the touch for a moment, but then his words pulled her back to him again.

“Sansa, you don’t have to do it. You never have to do anything you don’t want to again, especially marry. You can tell them no.” He was squeezing her hand so tight, staring so deeply into her eyes, and she suddenly feared she might drown.

Pulling her hand from his, she folded both of hers in her lap and hardened herself again. “While I’m grateful to have your _permission_ on the matter, I assure you I have no intention of being forced into another marriage.”

Jon looked wounded and she decided she’d let him be, even though she knew his intentions weren’t to be hurtful. He was being protective, and that’s what bothered her most. Who was he to feign concern for her now?

“But they’re right,” Sansa sighed, trying her best to continue the conversation cordially. “The North does need an heir.”

“So then, is there someone you want? A man of your own choosing?” Jon seemed to be attempting a coolness in his tone as well, but she saw right through it.

“No.”

She was tempted to end the conversation and leave him ignorant of her true intentions for coming here. He’d ignited something in her she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was frustration, but it was also more than that. Competition, maybe. She hated herself for it, but there was a part of her that still wanted him to see her as more than he did. As a leader, as a capable, strong, intelligent ruler of the people he once claimed to care so much about. A worthy queen of the place he once said was a part of him, his home. She wanted his approval and support, but more than anything she wanted him to miss her as she missed him.

“Sansa, just talk to me.” Jon was stern, but also sounded as if he were trying to offer peace. “I’m sorry, alright? Whatever it is, I want to help you.”

She almost scoffed but instead she just closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself. Then she told him.

“I will never marry. Once, I thought if I'd found someone I could love, who actually loved me back, I might’ve considered it. But even then, I’m not sure I could.”

“Why not?”

Sansa smiled a little at his naiveté. “It’s never been easy for me to trust, Jon, at least not since Father was killed. Being a queen certainly hasn’t changed that fact. I have to protect the North, now. We’ve lost too much already, all of us, and I would never feel comfortable having some man in a position to take it all away, even if I loved him. _Especially_ if I did.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Love makes you weak, Jon.” Her eyes glazed a bit and she looked back at her folded hands in her lap, so she didn’t see him flinch as if her words were an accusation. “Cersei Lannister told me that once. She said when you love someone, you’ll do things for them you know you shouldn’t. Act the fool to make them happy. The woman was cruel but on that matter she was not mistaken. I can’t afford to take any risks.”

“So how do you propose to make an heir? By having bastards?” It was meant to be another joke but Sansa didn’t find it amusing.

“I know the Wildlings have their own way of–”

“Aye, we do,” he cut her off defensively, emphasizing the ‘we’ as if to remind her he was one of them now. “The Free Folk lay with who they want and children are claimed by their fathers even if they aren’t married to the mother. We take care of each other.”

“I know, Jon.” She was trying to sound accepting. “I didn’t even realize marriage was ever part of it.”

“We have our own ways of doing that, too.” It was becoming clear he had something to prove. “If a man wants a woman for his wife, he has to steal her.”

“ _Steal_ her?”

“That’s right. If the woman lets him, she’s his. If she doesn’t, well he usually ends up with his throat cut.”

“Sounds romantic,” she quipped. He scowled at her, but eventually the smirk she returned softened his expression. Then she took him completely by surprise and asked, “So, have you done that then, stolen someone?”

“Sansa, why are you asking me this?”

She sighed again and tried harder to make peace. “Jon, I don’t want to argue. I’m sorry. Believe it or not, I'm happy that you’ve found somewhere you feel like you belong. Truly, I am. Even if it isn’t in our home.”

He pressed his lips together and she worried she'd said the wrong thing again. But then he sighed, seeming to accept her words for what they were meant to be, a truce.

“I'll never marry again, Jon. If someday I decide to lay with a man and he gets a child on me then yes, that child would be a bastard. Either way it's unlikely, and it's even less likely to happen anytime in the near future. There needs to be an heir named, and soon.”

“So, what are you getting at?”

“Well, I thought maybe…”

“Sansa.” He was growing impatient.

She lifted her chin and pushed her shoulders back in a regal posture, deciding to just get it over with. “I'm here to ask if I might name one of your children as my heir, if you have any that is. Or a future child if you don’t yet.”

Jon was rendered speechless again. He simply stared at her with his brow pinched and his mouth hanging open.

“I know it is a lot to ask. I don’t expect you to answer now.”

He remained silent still. She waited, hoping he would say something, anything, but he just continued to stare cruelly.

“I’m sorry,” she frowned. “I didn’t know what else to do. Arya is off on the other side of the world with no plans of returning. Bran can’t father children. I thought of choosing one of the orphans being fostered in the castle, but I suppose I just hoped that it might still be a Stark.”

“I’m not a Stark,” he replied finally. 

The words tumbled out, but they were as practiced as ever. Only this time she couldn’t bring herself to plead with him to understand that he was, that he’d always been. This time she knew he wasn’t saying it because he felt rejected. This time he was rejecting it himself, rejecting her.

“This was foolish,” she said dismissively. “I never should have asked, forgive me.” She stood and smoothed her skirts with her hands. “It was nice seeing you, Jon. I should tell my men to ready the horses for our journey back.”

Sansa moved around the table in an attempt to leave before the tears she no longer felt she could hold back betrayed her. But then his hand caught hers as she passed him and it halted her. She remained facing away from him, willing her eyes to stay dry but it was no use.

“Sansa,” he whispered gently. His hand squeezed hers in a silent request for her to look at him but she couldn’t allow it. “Please don’t go. Not yet.”

“I have work to do,” she stated bluntly, but the catch in her voice gave her away. Jon stood, moving around her so that she was forced to face him. Then he held her shoulders in the grip of his strong hands.

“Please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She wanted to deny that he had, but a tear fell down her cheek and she brushed it off resentfully. She wanted to scream at him, to strike him, curse him, and storm away. But all she could do was stand there scowling in defiance, crying, just like a child.

“You don’t really want that, do you? Some Wildling bastard, the son of a murderer, sitting on the Northern throne. That can’t be what you want for your people.”

“Jon,” she whimpered painfully, “you were their _King_.”

He released her at last and moved back a few steps, causing a shadow to fall over his already darkened face. “I failed them.”

“How can you say that? You saved them, all of them.”

“I betrayed them! I bent the knee to a–”

“You did what you thought was best. You couldn’t have known what she would do. They don’t blame you.” Sansa moved closer. She wanted to touch him as he had her, to comfort him and make him see, but she kept her hands by her side. “I don’t blame you either, Jon. I know you loved her.”

At that his face twisted into a sneer that almost frightened her. “Is that what you think? Still?” He was disgusted with her, that much was clear. “After all this time, after everything–”

“What?”

“You never did have faith in me, did you?” He looked away from her, his voice falling into something weaker. “I suppose that’s understandable, given how often I broke it.”

“Jon.”

“I never loved her, Sansa.”

She didn’t understand. “But you…”

“I’ve less honor than even _you_ would give me credit for." He scoffed, hatefully. "I needed her to bring her armies north. I reasoned with her, tried to make her understand the threat we were facing. But even after she saw the proof with her own eyes, even after I bent the knee, it wasn’t enough. I knew she had feelings for me, so when she told me she couldn’t have children I bedded her. I let her love me and I let her believe that I loved her back. Then I killed her.” 

He moved closer to her again, but it wasn’t to offer comfort this time. He was angry. “Do you see now, Sansa? Do you see the kind of man you are asking to put his bastard on your throne?”

Sansa didn’t know what made her do it, but she suddenly found herself reaching for him. Her hand rested softly against his cheek and she felt him tremble beneath her touch. He looked as if he might strike her away, but she remained steadfast. Somehow, she knew that he needed this. He needed her.

She took a small step closer and he closed his eyes. “Jon,” she began gently.

“No.” He shook his head in protest but she stayed the course.

“Look at me, please.”

He squeezed his eyes tighter, his last attempt to fight her off, but then he yielded and met her piercing stare.

“You’re a good man. You always have been.” This broke him apart and he began to openly weep. Sansa pulled him to her and he didn’t resist, pressing his face against her chest and clinging to the fabric of her dress at her waist. She soothed him, stroking the back of his head and neck as he cried. “You have to forgive yourself, Jon. You must.”

All he could do was whisper her name. She continued to hold him until he was empty and exhausted. When he lifted himself from her embrace, looking at her with only hopeless defeat, she took him by the hand and lead him to the hearth. Together, they sat before it, resting on a thick bearskin that had been laid out on the floor. They remained quiet for a time, but their hands stayed joined between them.

“I have missed you, you know.” His words surprised her, but she tried not to let the affect show on her face. She didn’t want to start another argument.

“Why didn’t you write?”

“I wanted to. I tried, half a hundred times, but I could never find the words.”

Sansa brushed her thumb along the back of his hand in hers. “You could’ve sent an inventory of all the rocks and sticks beyond the Wall for all I cared. At least I would have known you hadn’t forgotten me.”

“How could you think I’d forgotten you?” Jon squeezed her hand gently, his voice sad with truth.

“I thought maybe, maybe after everything, you would want to forget. To be free of it all, of me.” Another tear escaped down her cheek but before she could wipe it away, he did it for her. His thumb rested against her cheek, stroking her gently, as his hand curved around the back of her neck. He was holding her, pressing lightly until she tilted her gaze back to him.

“I would never want that, Sansa. I’d never want to be free from you, or to forget you. All I’ve ever wanted was to protect you. After everything that happened, the only way I knew how to do that was to leave.”

She shook her head. “How is leaving me supposed to protect me, Jon?”

He gazed at her a while longer before lowering his hand back to the furs. “Sansa, you know what I am. What I became.”

“What, a hero? A King?”

“A Targaryen.”

“Jon, you don’t believe that.”

“Don’t you? I watched it happen, Sansa. I knew what she was going to do and I stood by and watched her do it. She burned those people alive. Children! And she was going to keep doing it until–”

“Until you stopped her.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes again. “You mean until I murdered her.”

“Yes, Jon. That’s what I mean.” Sansa tried to reach for his hand again but he pulled it away. “You did what had to be done.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then make me. Make me understand it. Tell me why killing someone to prevent them from killing millions of others is so wrong.”

Jon pressed both of his hands against his face, as if to restrain the memory from assaulting him further. Sansa watched him silently, waiting for him to say what he was feeling. She nearly gave up until at last he dropped his hands to his lap. Then he began his telling of it all.

“She was standing there, looking at the throne, with the ashes of her slaughter still snowing down around her. The keep was destroyed, the walls and ceiling just… gone. There were no guards with her, only her dragon keeping watch from outside.”

Sansa listened, keeping as still as her pounding heart would allow. She didn’t want to provoke him into more sorrow, but she knew he needed to unburden himself of this.

“When I approached her she looked so happy, so at peace. Everything she’d fought for her entire life was finally within her grasp. It didn’t seem to bother her at all, what she’d done. She spoke of creating a new world, a good world, one where she would liberate all people from the grasp of evil. Even if that liberation came with fire and blood.”

Jon lowered his eyes from the hearth and stared blankly at his folded hands in this lap. “She smiled at me and pulled me close. She asked me to join her, to be with her and we would build the new world together.” His voice grew quieter with each word. “So, I held her. I looked into her eyes and told her she would always be my queen. Then I kissed her. I felt her love, all of it, bursting from her like a little girl infatuated with romantic tales of princesses and knights. She was giving herself to me, her trust, her heart, even her kingdom. And I pushed my knife into her before our lips even parted.”

Sansa knew there was nothing left of his story, but she couldn’t find words for a response. Her body felt cold, despite the vigor of the fire before her. She ached for him, for what he had to do. And she understood now why he felt he had to punish himself for it, even if she didn’t agree. Finally, she decided to offer him the only wisdom she had. Wisdom she’d gained from him.

“Yesterday’s wars don’t matter anymore.” He looked at her defiantly. “What’s done is done, Jon. Punishing yourself for the rest of your life might help you feel as if you are atoning. But it doesn’t much help anyone else.”

Jon shook his head slightly and then turned back toward the fire.

“I understand, though. Truly. I won’t tell you how to reconcile any of this for yourself. You deserve to make your own choices on that at the very least.”

“But?”

“But, the North still needs to secure its freedom. I still need an heir.” Sansa squeezed his shoulder gently and then stood, moving to gather her cloak from where she’d hung it after she arrived. “I’m sorry if asking you here caused you more pain. It wasn’t my intention.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I need to get back. If I don’t receive a reply from you after a year, I will assume you’ve declined my request.”

“Sansa.” He stood and moved between her and the door.

“It’s alright, Jon. I understand it was a lot to ask, I understood that before I came.” She finished securing the straps of her cloak and started pulling on her gloves. “Promise me you will take care of yourself. That’s all I ask.”

Jon looked down, defeated, and then offered a small nod.

“It was wonderful to see you again, truly.” Sansa placed a gloved hand on his shoulder and then kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

She moved around him, turning the handle of the door, but then he stopped her, shoving his hand against it to keep it closed. Sansa looked at him, confused, but his eyes remained on the floor.

“Are you sure that this is what you want, even after–”

Her hand pressed against his face again and she lifted his eyes to her as he had done for her only moments ago.

“I’m sure, Jon. More now than I’ve ever been. But I won’t force you.”

He sighed, studying her face for some hint of deception, but all he found was her unwavering strength and terrifying beauty. “If you truly want it, I’d never deny you anything.”

His words gripped her in a way she hadn’t expected. A sudden warmth pooled in her stomach and she could feel her face flushing with a desire she couldn’t name.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She stared at him a moment longer, still held immobile by the sudden spell she found herself under. Then, giving in to an urge she’d had from the moment she saw him again, Sansa flung her arms around him in an embrace so tight it could have crushed him had she possessed the strength of a man. He pulled her even closer, both of his hands pressing into her back beneath her cloak. Then he turned his head, laying his face against her neck, not wanting to ever let her go.

“Please stay,” he begged quietly. “Just until tomorrow, at least. I’ve missed you so much.”

Sansa didn’t know what to say, but he pulled back from her and the look on his face compelled her to acquiesce. She nodded and offered him a gentle smile. Then he hugged her again.

That evening they ate together in her chambers. The conversation was still sparse, but they’d both silently agreed to maintaining some semblance of neutrality in the topics they discussed. Sansa filled him in on the work she had been doing over the last four years, the progress they’d made in rebuilding homes and reopening markets. Jon told her of similar work he’d been doing with the Wildlings, setting up small villages and making plans for trade negotiations with the Night’s Watch. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t considered negotiating with her, recognizing immediately how such a system could benefit the entire North no matter which side of the Wall anyone chose to live on. But she kept her thoughts to herself.

“I’m proud of you,” he told her when there was a dip in the conversation. She looked confused, but also moved by his words. “I meant it when I said the North couldn’t ask for anyone better to lead them. Your father would be proud, too.”

Sansa deflated slightly at the reminder that Jon was not the son of Lord Eddard Stark, that he was not her brother. She knew telling him that he would always be Ned’s son wasn’t what he wanted to hear right now, so she didn’t. Instead she tried to give him a smile that might tell him what her words could not, that she was proud of him, too.

“You never answered my question,” she stated quietly. He shifted his brows, not understanding, and then she smirked. “About _stealing_ a girl. Have you found someone, Jon? Do you have any children of your own?”

Jon kept his gaze on her, smiling kindly just a bit. “No,” he told her softly. “But if you really want this, I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow at him. “You make it sound like a punishment. I thought you’d want to…”

“What?” he chuckled teasingly. “You thought I’d want to… get a bastard on the next Wildling woman who crosses my path? Bed as many as I can to increase my chances?”

“Have a family,” she corrected. “I guess I just assumed that was what you wanted.”

“Why would you assume that?”

She shrugged, trying to find the answer for herself. “I suppose because you would make such a good father. I never really weighed it out or anything. Like I said, I just assumed. That’s why I asked." She thought about it a moment longer then said, "Jon, if it isn’t what you want maybe we should rethink this.”

“I didn’t say that.” He didn’t say otherwise either. Instead he just contemplated silently for a while. “But Sansa, isn’t it what _you’ve_ always wanted? A family of your own?”

“I told you,” she began, but he cut her off.

“You told me what you think is best for the North. I’m not asking you that. Sansa, if it ever came to you needing forces to defend your rule the Wildlings would fight for you.”

“They don’t serve me, and I wouldn’t ask–”

“They serve me.”

Sansa’s words disappeared in her mouth as she watched him closely.

“I am their king, now. The King Beyond the Wall. They don’t kneel, to anyone, but they chose me and would follow me anywhere, especially if it was to defend you. The Free Folk cherish you as much at the Northerners do. People from Castle Black all the way to the Lands of Always Winter talk about the Queen in the North, her infamous beauty and even more infamous courage.”

At this she scoffed, now fully convinced he was teasing her.

“The Wolf Queen who refused to kneel,” he continued insistently. “Not even to dragons, not even to her own brother.” He watched her and found himself pleased that she was so clearly proud of her notoriety beyond the Wall. 

“You didn’t answer me either, though. Tell me, Sansa. The truth. If it weren’t for your concern that the North would fall into the wrong hands, if you weren’t Queen or even the Lady of Winterfell. If you were free to follow your heart, wouldn’t you want a family of your own? To feel your babes growing within you, to see your own eyes looking back at you as you watch them play in the yard?”

She didn’t respond, but the tears that started to fill her eyes again revealed the answer.

“There must be a way,” he insisted. “Sansa, you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted. Make them wait. Make them wait until you’re ready, however long that is. I know the risk seems like it’s too great right now, and not just because of your title.”

She looked at him then, caught in his words and their meaning. Yet, she still could not respond.

“I’ve never known anyone as strong as you, and I’ve known giants.” He offered a small smirk but she did not return it. “The world stole your safety from you, I know. But you fought and fought and you won it back. Take back your belief in love, too. Don’t live your life according Cersei Lannister’s creed. Don’t allow the things that have happened to you make you forget what you are.”

“And what is that?”

“A _wolf_ , Sansa.” He pulled her hand in his and held it close. “You are the Queen in the North. You are the Daughter of Winterfell. Anyone who would dare to try and harm you will be met with the blades of thousands who would happily give their lives for yours, including me. Especially me. Whatever it is that you want, take it. Seize it and know that it is yours. Know that you have the power now, the power to make anything possible. In truth, you always did. I’ve seen it more times than I could recount.”

Sansa looked down at her hand in his, watching the union with a curious expression that Jon did not understand.

“But, what if what I want…” Her words began with a strength akin to what he’d ascribed to her, but then they faded away.

Jon released her grasp and lifted both of his hands to her face. “Tell me,” he begged, desperate for her to see that she is worthy of anything this world could offer. “Say what it is you want.”

She took a few heavy breaths, her eyes shifting back and forth between his with uncertainty, and then she said it. “I want to have a child, Jon… with you.”

The words hung in the air between them and neither of them moved. Jon had forgotten to breathe and all he could do was stare at her, as if he were waiting for a correcting echo to reveal what she’d actually said. Surely, what he had heard couldn’t be right. When his head started to feel dizzy, it finally occurred to him that he needed to take a breath.

Jon inhaled deeply, preparing to say something, to say anything that would bring him back to the world he knew. Back to the world that existed only seconds ago, before he was ripped from it and thrown into one wholly different and new. But no words came to him. Instead, he felt himself move against his own will. Or maybe she was moving. All he knew was that she was getting closer and closer, and then he felt the warmth of her sigh on his face just as his lips fell down upon hers.


	2. King's Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa make love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty much just sex in this chapter ;)

His eyes were still closed when she pulled back. For a moment, she started to wonder if he was alright. “Jon?” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before finally daring to look at her. “Sansa, I don’t know…”

“Jon.”

He stopped talking and waited, terrified of what might come next. 

“Well,” she sighed, giving the hint of a laugh. “I suppose that's one way to solve it.”

“Solve what?”

“The problem of my needing an heir.”

“Sansa,” he tried again. His head was spinning and he still didn’t know what to say, only that he had to say something. “That was…”

“What, a mistake?” He looked away from her then. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” Jon’s reply was quick, too quick, and primal. 

“Neither do I.” Sansa moved toward him but he took a step back. Something in her seemed to have changed, as if she'd suddenly taken his advice to heart. She moved closer again, ready to seize what she wanted. 

“Please, Jon. Don’t do this.” Her hand closed around his and the touch was so intense it almost burned.

“Do what?” Jon watched her cautiously, frightened by just how much he wanted to touch her.

Sansa lifted his hand and placed it on her waist. “Don’t make this another thing you have to punish yourself for, don’t make me that.” He swallowed but did not pull his hand away. She lifted the other and kissed his palm softly before placing it on the side of her neck.

Jon found himself pressing his fingers against her, wanting to caress her, to trace her skin with his touch. His pulse was ringing in his ears now, and as she pulled him closer so their bodies connected he felt his cock begin to swell. 

“I love you,” she whispered softly, and all thoughts of moving away from her were gone. “Jon, I’ve loved you for so long, you must know that.”

“Sansa, I…” Her eyes held his in a grip he couldn't escape. He needed to do something, everything inside of him was screaming that he had to stop this. She couldn’t see what it would mean, she didn’t know. But all he could manage was to whisper, “We shouldn’t.”

“Do you love me, Jon?” Her question was sober, unassuming, and he knew that she truly needed to know. 

The hand on her neck slid back, his fingers combing through her soft auburn hair as he cradled her head in his palm. His mouth quivered and his eyes remained pleading for a reprieve. “More than I could have ever known was possible.”

She leaned into him and he didn’t stop her. Their lips met again with more unrestrained desire this time, and they pulled each other closer, as close as was possible. Jon felt Sansa shift, parting her lips just slightly, and he did the same. His tongue brushed against her bottom lip and then he pressed into her further, tasting her, devouring her like she was the nourishment he’d needed all this time. 

Somehow, they ended up on the bed, though mostly it was a blur of lips and hair and hands. They were side-by-side, wrapped in each other’s arms and legs, but that was an incoherent tangle as well since neither of them could seem to stop their kiss long enough to see what they were doing. 

Sansa managed to lift her knee, her heavy skirt having risen enough to give her room, and Jon gasped into her mouth as he felt her leg wrap around his hip. He pressed his aching hardness forward unintentionally, but Sansa felt it push against her thigh in a way that could not go unnoticed. 

Jon tried to pull himself back but her grip around him tightened, her leg pulled him closer, her arms and hands started roaming over his body more broadly, and her soft, swollen lips kept him in a trance of endless need. Then strange sensations, like pulling and tugging, started to enter his awareness, but only just. He felt lighter, somehow, as if his body had changed form but still, he could hardly pull his focus from her mouth long enough to realize what was going on. She had taken his upper layers off of him, his leathers, his jerkin, and now he was only in a tunic. But Sansa was already working at those laces, too. 

He pulled away from her at last and it felt like finally reaching the surface after nearly drowning. Clarity started to set in and he was surprised to find himself half on top of her. “Sansa, wait.” He moved his hand swiftly to stop hers as it traveled down to the laces of his breeches. “What are you doing?” 

She looked at him as if she was waking from her own dream, entirely disoriented. “Is that a real question?”

“Sansa, please.”

She took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together as she took in a deep breath. Then she looked into his dark eyes, holding them in the light of her own. “I told you what I wanted, Jon. Just as you asked me to.”

“Now?”

She smiled, shifting the leg she had around him down the back of his thigh and then up again. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

His breathing was getting harder, all of him was. “Are you _sure_?” he whispered desperately.

“Jon,” she softly pulled his face back down to hers, their lips practically brushing, “please don’t ask me again. Just trust me when I tell you that I want this... and I want it from you.” 

He kissed her again, more eager to let go of all constraints than he would want to admit. His tongue danced with hers as he thrust both of his hands into her hair, his clumsy grip loosening the elegant designs that had no doubt been fashioned for the Queen that morning with painstaking attention and effort. Jon shifted, pulling her bottom lip lightly between his teeth before he moved his mouth down to her throat. 

Sansa heard herself moan when he sucked on the skin just below her ear. This seemed to spur him on as she felt him suck harder, and then his hips thrust against her again. She was blinded by the sensations coursing through her body, his heaviness on top of her, his hands pulling lightly on her hair, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh on her neck. 

Then she felt his mouth move lower, he was at the neckline of her dress. A hand lowered from its grip in her hair and pressed against her breast. When he cupped her, squeezing her through the think wool, it made her arch her back. She wanted to feel more, to have his skin touching hers. 

Jon felt something come between him and his righteous hold on her body and he looked down to see her pulling at the clasps of her dress. Sitting up, he leaned back on his heels and watched her. When the last clasp had been undone, Sansa pulled open one on side of her gown, then untied the laces that held the other side together. She sat up, pulling her arms out of the heavy sleeves before shifting the rest from beneath her. Then she tossed the garment to the floor carelessly, as if she weren’t a Queen who’d just disrobed for her former bastard brother. 

He kept watching as she laid back down on the bed, now only in her shift made of pale blue silk. Sansa started to blush as Jon realized just how long he’d been staring. “Radiant,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself. She reached for him, and as he took her hand she guided him back to her side. 

Jon kissed her, but only once. Then he traced her jaw with his thumb as stared into her eyes again. 

“Jon?” she whispered shyly. He smiled gently at her, waiting for her words to leave her lips. “Will you touch me again?” 

With another swallow he tried to steady himself, then slowly traced his fingertips down from her jaw along her neck, and then across her chest. When he reached her breast, he started by touching her above her shift. He could feel her nipple stiffen beneath the silky fabric and he teased it gently, feeling drunk from her sighs of pleasure. Then he traced down further, following the slope of her form before cupping her fully in his hand. Sansa started to shift her legs when he did this, and it made him want to take her right then. Jon leaned down, sucking her stiff nipple into his mouth through her shift, leaving a damp mark soiling the luxurious slip of the Queen. Then he moved to her other nipple and repeated the act. 

She arched against him harder, pressed herself further into his mouth as she clutched him to her by his hair. “Jon,” she moaned and he looked up at her and smiled. She watched him as his fingers started pulling on the laces of her shift. He opened the top enough so it easily slipped off her shoulders, allowing him to pull the silk down and expose her breasts to him. 

He kissed softly between the two mounds of soft flesh. For a moment, he rested there with his face pressed against her, pillowed by her body surrounding him. Then he began to consume her, moving his mouth with the hunger of a starving man, covering every inch that was exposed, from her collarbone to the tender skin beneath her breasts. 

Sansa wrapped her legs around his ribs as he rested his body atop hers. She watched him, mesmerized, as he pulled her bare nipple into his lips, sucking on her with all the depravity she’d never have pictured belonging to Jon Snow, of all people. But each time he looked up at her with his black eyes filled with lust, his rough hands possessing her, his tongue tasting her with greed, she found herself wanting to see more. She wanted to see the wolf come out, the King. 

She reached down, causing her breasts to press together, and Jon pushed his face between them again. Her hands clung to his back, her hips rutting against his stomach as she moaned in response to his teeth nipping at her skin. Then she pulled his tunic into both fists, lifting it up his body until it stalled beneath his armpits.

“Jon,” she begged, bringing his attention away from her tits at last. She tugged on the tunic again and he realized what she was trying to do. He sat back, removing it the rest of the way, and then looked down at her again. 

She was so beautiful, lying there before him with her hair wildly falling about the pillow and over her shoulders. The blue silk of her shift spread open, revealing her perfect pale skin that was starting to redden from his assaults. He lifted his gaze from her body back to her eyes and was surprised to find her staring at him, almost in fear.

He looked down at his own body now, just as exposed as hers, and realized what had caused her such a fright. His scars never fully healed. They would forever be the marks of his death, proof that there was something about him that wasn't quite right. Suddenly, Jon had a sinking feeling in his gut and found himself doubting if he should be doing this after all. It obviously wasn't the first time he questioned it, but until this moment he hadn’t considered what a child born of his actual blood might mean. Was he really alive? Could a child even be born from the seed of a dead man? 

“Are you alright?” she asked him cautiously. He wasn’t sure he had an answer for her, but he would try.

“Sansa,” he began, not able to look at her. He dropped his hand to her knee, still lying beside his own, and clutched her gently. “What if… well, what if what happened to me changed me somehow?”

She sat up then, placing her hand on his chest, and he was finally able to look at her again. “Jon,” she whispered. “I can feel your heart beating. You’re here, you’re alive.”

Jon flinched slightly, afraid to believe her. 

“I know you,” she continued with more insistence, her fingers pressing into him harder. “I know who you are, I know _what_ you are. And everything you are is everything I want. Our child will be beautiful, and strong, and have so much love.”

He released a breath of resignation. He’d never understand how he came to this moment, with this creature in his arm. He’d never know how he managed to get so lucky, and if the gods cursed him for this he would not be surprised. Jon knew he didn’t deserve her, but she deserved anything she wanted. And if she wanted him, he would give himself to her until his dying breath, no matter how many times it might come to that. He never wanted to come back from the dead, but for her he would. He’d come back and come back again, for as long as she still wanted him to. Even if she didn’t, he would come back still if she had need of him. 

Their lips met again as they fell back onto the bed, Jon above her, their skin pressed together in the tight embrace. He pulled her shift down further, passed her hips, as Sansa reached between them to open his breeches, pulling them down as well. Their legs did the rest of the work, shifting and kicking the last of their clothes to the floor until it was only them. 

Naked, with the length of their bodies caressing, Jon stopped one last time to look at her. His hand stroked her hair, the smooth curls of red dancing around his fingers, and she smiled at him. He returned the smile, peering into her eyes with so much he wanted to tell her. He wanted to give her poetry and songs, libraries worth of dedication to her indescribable wonder. But he was no poet.

“I love you, Sansa. I’ll always love you.”

He kissed her again and his body shifted between her legs. Her arms were wrapped behind him, her fingers tracing the hard form of his back. Then he reached between them without releasing her lips and guided his cock to her entrance, slipping it back and forth a few times, covering his tip with her desire. Then, moving his hand back to her body, he held her gently on her thigh, opening her a little more as he entered her for the first time.

“Jon,” she moaned, as his face fell from hers and pressed against her neck. 

He was half inside her and the sensation was nearly too much already. His lips sucked in the skin on her throat and then Jon pushed in again, until he was seated fully within her. The heat of her surrounding him ignited a fire throughout his entire body. His hips rocked back and then forward again, causing another ache of pleasure to escape from her lips. 

At last he was able to gather himself enough to lift up and look at her again. His hand caressed her face and he started to thrust into her more steadily. Her mouth hung open, as soft cries flowed from her as freely as the slick desire now flowing from her where they were joined. Jon bent and captured one of her breasts again, cupping it with his hand as his lips pulled at her nipple. He bit down gently and Sansa’s hips rose up, plunging him deeper into her heat. 

He growled, causing a vibration that stimulated her sensitive skin further, and Jon felt her thighs squeeze him as they moved higher around his waist. He held her hip with his free hand, pulling her closer as he continued to increase his pace and traded one breast for the other. His grip then moved, sliding beneath her, his fingers clutching at the round flesh of her ass. 

The feeling of him inside her was like nothing Sansa could have imagined. Not that she'd much allowed herself to imagine it, not really, and certainly not with Jon. But the few times she had considered it, if only to wonder whether she maybe someday could, she expected for it to be fine at best. Manageable, anyway. She’d figured, even if it was uncomfortable, perhaps she’d eventually come to like it considering so many people seemed to. 

From the time she was a girl, even before she really knew what it meant, laying with a man was something she primarily thought of as a duty. When she was crowned Queen, she’d decided to never allow it to be her duty again. Once or twice over the last few years, when a rare respite from her ruling obligations permitted, she found herself wondering about the possibility of a time in the future when she might allow for desire. The memory of it now almost made her laugh in his arms. If only she could go back and tell that poor, lonely Queen about the night awaiting her at Castle Black. 

The weight of him on top of her, the expanse of his back beneath her hands and his strong thighs between her own, the fullness of his cock stretching her body open. Nothing had ever made her feel so alive, or so safe. It was like he was molding himself to her, a permanent armor that would always shield her no matter what she might someday face. 

Jon couldn’t stop. He wanted to go deeper and deeper and the rising force of his movements vouched for that. But then suddenly he was close to the edge, much too close. Only this managed to pull him back to his senses as he wasn't ready for this to be over. Not now, not yet.

Sansa felt a tension building inside her, as if she was approaching a precipice that would send her into a state of oblivion. Then, just as she was about to reach her peak, he stopped. He pulled himself from her, suddenly and cruelly, making her groan in a way that left her slightly embarrassed. 

Kneeling above her, Jon panted roughly as his eyes combed her body like a salivating beast ready to devour its prey. Sansa looked at him, somewhat confused. “Are… are you finished?” she asked as politely as she could, trying not to sound disappointed. He shook his head slowly, still invading her flesh with his lustful glare. When he finally met her eyes she saw a flash of his tongue brushing his bottom lip, making her inhale sharply. 

He shifted himself down the bed until his face was even with her bent knee. Nuzzling himself roughly against her skin, the scratch of his beard sent jolts of stimulation down her leg where they further flamed her need. As his mouth began to travel along her inner thigh, he gripped her other leg, pulling it back so that she was fully exposed to him. 

Then his tongue pressed into her and Sansa threw her head back against the pillow she was gripping so hard it started to tear. The cry she released when his gaping mouth smothered her made Jon have to reach down and pull a few times on his cock. He didn't want to risk spilling in his hand, but the sound of his name on her lips, _like that_ , forced him to relieve some of the pressure as he lapped at her pooling nectar. 

The stiff tip of his tongue inched higher until he found her clit, and the moment he touched it, Sansa’s hips jerked so forcefully that Jon had to press her down to continue. And continue he did. Sucking her between his lips, he assaulted the sensitive nub with rapid licks and flicks as she continued to try and push herself against him despite his restraint. 

“Jon, please,” she whined, bringing one hand down to clutch his hair as the other continued clawing at the pillow. Sansa managed to tilt her head enough to see him, the mass of black curls tickling her thighs, his bearded mouth feasted on her cunt, and then his savage eyes peered up at her, too. He was watching her just as she was watching him, and he kept watching as he released one of his hands from its hold on her and brought it down between her legs. She felt him push two thick fingers into her and there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes when she lost her breath in response. 

That’s when she started to lose control. As he pumped his fingers in and out, still attacking her clit with his mouth, her body began moving of its own accord. Her thighs clamped shut around his neck, her fist yanked his hair so hard some of it ripped out, and her back arched in a convulsion that lifted her nearly to a sitting position. Everything exploded, bursting all at once from her core, and she could feel herself gushing in release as his beard grew wet against her skin. 

When it was all over, Sansa fell back once again, her head spinning and her chest heaving desperately. Then he was next to her. His face pressed into her hair as he laid a gentle hand on her pounding heart. It took her a few more moments before she could finally turn to her side and look at him. He was beautiful. She looked him over, taking in the detail of his form fully for the first time. His arm draped across her was a sculpture of pure strength, his muscles curving over themselves like the rolling hills that surrounded Winterfell. The stretch of his naked body beside her was captivating. That vulnerable skin that was always there, hidden under leather and steel, laid bare just for her. Sansa eyes drifted to his cock, and she felt strangely unashamed in her examination of it, especially since she knew he was watching her. As her eyes remained intentionally fixed there he pulled his arm from her and rolled onto his back, allowing her to look more fully. 

Jon didn’t speak and moved at little as possible, both alarmed and intrigued by her attention, but then his stomach clenched when she brought her hand toward him. She glanced up at him with a shy smile and he tried to return it, hoping his face didn’t reflect the sheer depravity that was warring in his mind. Then she touched him, her fingers grazing upward over the soft, sensitive skin of his balls before closing around the base of his cock. At first, she just held him and it took every ounce of strength Jon possessed to keep from thrusting into her hand. Her thumb brushed back and forth a few times and a drop of liquid started to pool in the cleft of his tip. Sansa slid her grip higher and touched the liquid with her thumb, smearing it around the curved head of his cock. Finally, unable to constrain himself any longer, Jon released a rumbling groan that came from the depths of his being. 

Sansa looked at him again and the tortured expression on his face made her lean into him, taking his lips with hers as she pressed into him with more command than she knew herself capable. She tasted her lust still lingering on his tongue and Jon pulled her by the waist until she was above him, her body covering his once again. She could feel his cock pressed against her stomach and she spread her knees until they rested on either side of him. His hands were all over her, kneading every inch of flesh he could reach. Then she shifted her body along his until she could feel his hardness reaching the where she needed it most. Gliding her slick cunt back and forth along his length a few times, Sansa felt Jon’s hands fisting her body, clutching handfuls of her hips so tightly she expected to find bruises there tomorrow. 

As she slid upward again, teasing his tip with her heat, Sansa gasped as she felt him suddenly thrust upward, pushing his cock back inside her fully with one quick motion. Before she realized it, Sansa was moving herself up and down on his cock, pulling him into her again and again with a rhythm that quickened with each stroke. She pressed her hands against his chest and lifted her body up, arching her back as she rode him vulgarly. Jon continued groping her hips and ass, then brought his hands up to her breasts to do the same. Her moans started becoming more rapid and desperate and Jon lifted himself up so that his mouth could join in on the feast of her tits. They were both upright now, Sansa straddling Jon as their hips ground punishingly against each other. Sansa combed through Jon’s tangle of curls, her fingernails clawing into his scalp. Jon sucked on her flesh so hard that he could feel the swelling he was causing already start to emerge. A knot started to tighten within him and he could feel it clenching from his balls to his gut. There would be no stopping himself this time, he knew.

Wrapping one of his arms around her waist and pressing the other into the mattress for balance, Jon hoisted himself up, pushing impossibly deeper as her knees rose completely off the bed. Then in one swift movement, without ever leaving her body, he flipped them over so that he was above her once again. Jon lifted her hands above her head and kissed her again as his hips pounded with full abandon. Then he pulled back, watching her face as he grew closer to the end. 

“Sansa,” he gasped roughly. “Sansa I–”

She gripped his back hard, her nails pressing into his skin so hard she drew blood. “ _Jon_.” It was all she could manage to say before he felt her starting to convulse and the pressure of her tightening around him pushed him beyond all comprehension. Jon let out a roaring cry as he felt his seed rising up and then released pulse after pulse into her depths, coursing with a force he’d never experienced. When he'd emptied himself completely he collapsed into her arms, drained of even the strength to remove himself from her. So, he didn’t. They lay there wordlessly, the only sound coming from their gasps as they tried to recover. 

His cock started to soften within her, and when it fell free the pool of his seed soon followed. Jon shifted to her side then, resting a lazy hand unintentionally on her stomach. He wanted to know what she was thinking but couldn’t bring himself to ask. Then, her hand came to rest atop his and she pressed down purposefully. He looked at her face, as if to confirm her meaning, and she smiled at him with more love in her eyes than he’d ever seen anyone possess. It almost felt like an invasion to behold her in that moment. The raw and vulnerable hope that she was expressing, just for him, just with her eyes, it made him tremble. 

Jon pulled her closer, kissing her softly and slowly. Then Sansa rested her head on his shoulder and no words were spoken as they drifted into the first peaceful sleep either of them had had in years.


	3. Power and Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They start to get a little dirtier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty much just sex in this one too. plot will be coming, though. and so will jon and sansa. ;)
> 
> Also, thanks for all the feedback!

“Jon,” she whispered in the dark. Sansa nudged his arm a little, but it wasn’t working. “Jon!”

He awoke from his vivid dream to find her wrapped in his arms, tightly. Her back was cemented to his chest, her hair was covering his face, and… _oh gods_! Jon released her quickly, pulling his hard cock away from where he’d had it pressed against her, practically in her. 

“Sorry,” he croaked, lifting a hand to his eyes as he tried to awaken fully. “I was dreaming.”

“That’s alright.” Her voice was low, seductive. She turned to face him and pressed her leg against his thigh. “I just thought you might prefer to be awake if you wanted to…” Sansa rubbed her leg back and forth a little and he looked down at what she was doing. 

Even in the dark she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His hand found her thigh and lifted it around him as he turned on his side toward her. Jon kissed her slowly and Sansa could feel his cock pulsing against her body.

“Must have been some dream,” she whispered when he finally released her lips. “Should I be jealous?”

He smirked and slid his hand up her leg, finding her ass with his strong grasp. He rocked against her, feeling the sticky combination of seed and fresh desire between her thighs. “Awake or in my dreams, I’m afraid I will never get the image of your body out of my mind.” 

Sansa rocked against him now, too, taking in a sharp breath. Her fingertips pressed into his chest. 

“Are you pleased, Your Grace?” 

She laughed a little at his question, thinking it must be obvious, but that wasn’t enough for Jon.

“Tell me, Sansa.” His voice sounded more serious and he thrust roughly to make his point. “Tell me what you're thinking about.”

Her breathing increased with his words, and with his cock rubbing against her like that. “Mmm… your mouth,” she confessed, brushing her fingers over his lips with the memory if it. “Watching you use your mouth on me, like I was the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted.”

Jon groaned and felt her cunt fluttering against his length. “You are, truly.”

“And what about you?” she purred. “What plagues your dreams my King?” 

He nearly spilled on her stomach at those words. Instead he reached between them, taking himself in hand, and rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit in slow, teasing circles. “Being inside you while you peaked,” he growled. “Feeling you tighten around me as you came apart, soaking me with your cunt." She whined at his words, loudly. "Gods, Sansa, you're so wet.”

Unable to tolerate his teasing any further, she reached down and pulled his hand away from his own cock, replacing it with hers. Jon released a sighing laugh at her and then choked on it as she inserted him inside of her. They remained on their sides, kissing softly, fucking slowly and speaking of shameful desires, shielded by the dark of night. 

“Tell me a secret, Jon.” 

He rocked into her a few more times before answering. He was moving at a torturously languid pace, carefully pulling out almost to the point of separation, then pushing back in just before his tip slipped free, going deep, stretching her further with every thrust. 

“I thought about this,” he rasped, gripping her ass harder. “I thought about you, more than I should’ve. Long _before_ I should’ve.” 

Sansa inhaled deeply, her face now resting against his bearded cheek. “When did it start? When did your thoughts of me start making your cock hard in the night?” 

“The last time we were here,” he confessed. "When you first came to me at Castle Black." He knew he should feel ashamed but their bodies both responded to the truth of it, surging forward at the same moment. “You were so beautiful and warm. I couldn't sleep, couldn't get you out of my mind. I'd fantasize every night about taking Winterfell back for you. I pictured killing him with my bare hands for you and then…”

“And then what?”

“Then you would come to me in the godswood. You’d find me there after it was all over and tell me that you loved me. Then I would take you right there, against the weirwood for all the gods to see. I wanted to make you feel good, make you forget...” 

Something in his voice made her feel sad for him. She rocked her hips a little more, hoping it would bring his thoughts back to the pleasure of this moment and remind him that he had her now. "I’d like to try that someday. What else?”

“What do you mean?” He was pushing into her more steadily now and found it difficult to concentrate.

“What about since you left? Do you ever think about me at night when you are out there in the wild all alone?” He nodded but her voice had caused his breath to leave him. “How do you imagine me, Jon? What do you think about when you take yourself in hand?”

He groaned again, squeezing the flesh of her ass as he jerked her forward hard. “Many things, Sansa. Savage things, _Wildling_ things.” He pushed into her again with a sharp thrust that made her wince. “Things far too depraved for a Queen.” 

“Please tell me,” she begged in a whisper. Her movements were getting sharper, too. “Shock me, Jon.”

He smiled and kissed her deeply before giving her what she'd asked. “The Wildlings fuck like animals, like beasts. Sometimes even like wolves, howling at the moon.” Sansa whimpered. “It isn’t always rough or cruel, but when it is… there is nothing that can restrain it. I once saw a man bend his woman over a stump and fuck her, right out in the open for all to see, simply because his friend had said she has a nice ass.” 

“Why would he do that?”

“I guess to prove she was his.”

“Did… did she like it?”

“I didn’t ask her, but the way she was screaming his name certainly suggested that she did.”

Sansa blushed, pushing her hips against his with more force. It surprised her how much hearing him talk about his Wildling life turned her on. “And you imagined doing that with me, bending me over a stump in front your friends?”

“No.” Jon moved his hand now from her ass up to her breast, squeezing her with his palm as his thumb and forefinger pulled her nipple into a pinch. Sansa hissed and he felt her gush around his cock again. Then he sucked on her neck torturously, wanting her to beg him before he tells her. “Worse than that.”

She whined against his cruelty. Despite the rising force in his thrusts, he still kept them at a pace that was agonizingly too slow. 

“Tell me,” she commanded, but it wasn’t enough. He made her wait, pressed into her completely and then paused, remaining motionless inside of her aching depths until she finally gave him what he wanted. “ _Please_ …”

Jon pushed her back against the bed and centered himself above her. Submitting fully to his own depravity, he determined to watch her face as he told it to her. He held her down, securing her wrists with his hands on either side of her head, then began fucking her harder in long, brutal strokes, sinking her into the mattress with every push.

“I imagined you in Winterfell.” His eyes held hers as he spoke, their black stare penetrating her even deeper than his cock. “I’d see you in the Great Hall with all your bannermen around you. They’d be cheering for you and calling you Queen, all of them swearing their swords to you. And just as you’d sit on your throne, a goddess among mere men, better than every one of them and you know it… I’d force my way into your castle.” 

Sansa gasped, suddenly shaken from the trance of his tale, as Jon pressed his thumb against her clit. Her hips rolled up from the mattress in a wave as he rubbed her in a coarse, rapid circle. 

With his other hand he held her gently by the neck, curving his fingers just beneath her jaw. He traced her bottom lip with his thumb and then pressed it into her mouth. She touched the invading finger with the tip of her tongue and then closed her lips around him.

She sucked on him for a few agonizing seconds, a sight so incredible it caused Jon to stall his movements inside her as he watched. Then she pressed her teeth down on him, just hard enough to bring him out of his spell before releasing him from her mouth with a pop.

“Tell me the rest,” she ordered, and this time he obeyed. 

“Where was I, Your Grace?” Jon felt his cock throbbing and started to move inside of her again. This game of theirs was dangerous, but there was no turning back now. 

Sansa met his thrusts with her hips in a rhythm that was growing more in sync with him by the moment. “A savage was invading my castle, I believe. Some stranger from beyond the Wall.”

“Yes,” he growled. “I enter your hall with my bastard blood up, my cock already swelling at the sight of you. Any man that would try and stop me will only be slaughtered at your feet. I approach the Queen, a perfect picture of elegance and grace, and stare you down with greed and lust in my eyes, knowing what I plan to do to you.”

“ _What?_ ” she moaned, causing Jon to smirk a little before hardening his face again. He could feel himself edging closer.

“When I reach the throne, you stare up at me with those haunting blue eyes. All those who are there to witness, the men who bow to you and once bowed to me, they watch to see if I’ll kneel to the Queen of the North.” Jon brushed her lip once more, then slid his hand back and gripped a fistful of her hair. “But the beautiful Queen, in all her majesty, lowers herself before her once bastard brother instead.”

Sansa pressed her mouth tightly, muffling her cry, as they continued drive into each other. They were fucking so fiercely now that they made lewd claps with their flesh, and his words were coming out in shortened pants. 

“With you on your knees and everyone watching, I pull my cock out for you, to give you what I know you really want. You long for it. You beg for it and it doesn’t matter who sees because they are all beneath you. You rule them, every man there is yours to command, except me." Sansa arched against him roughly. "I command you, and when I push my cock into your mouth you take it gratefully, as if you'd been waiting for it all you life.”

“Jon,” she cried weakly. It was all she could manage, but he felt her start to clench around him and knew what she was trying to say. 

“Do you like that, Sansa? You like hearing the sinful ways I think of you?” 

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “More.”

“You take me deep into your mouth and suck on my cock like a proper whore. You love it, being my pretty little slut, sucking me off with those perfect lips in front of the other Lords, letting them see their noble, highborn Queen succumb to such filthy desires.” 

Sansa cried out again. Then Jon hooked both of his hands under her thighs and pushed back on her legs until her knees were pressing against her shoulders. 

“Are you ready, sweet girl? Tell me what you want.”

“Oh gods!”

“Say it, Sansa!”

“I want your seed, I want you to fill me again… oh Jon, I’m…” 

A rush of her fluid surrounded him just as his cock started to explode inside of her. He felt her muscles clench and throb, milking him as he released pulse after pulse of hot seed deep into her womb. When the last of their crashing waves had finally settled, Jon felt Sansa trembling beneath him. 

Slowly, he guided her legs back down his sides, caressing her thighs gently as he tried to soothe the twitching muscles. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered in her ear, his cheek resting against hers. She nodded and then slid her arms around him, embracing him close until her breathing had steadied. Jon placed a soft kiss against her neck and allowed one fleeting intrusion of reality as he said, “Don’t go back tomorrow. Let’s stay here a while longer.” 

***

When Jon awoke the second time, it was morning. He was laying on his side, facing the window, and could see it was snowing. If not for the fact that he was still at Castle Black, Jon might have assumed the entire night had only been some cruel dream. Still, when he turned to reach for her and found the bed empty beside him, for a moment he feared he’d imagined it after all.

A trickling sound from across the room caught his attention and he breathed a sigh of relief to see her standing there. The sight was stunning. She was by the wash basin with her back to him, her hair piled atop her head with a few loose curls spilling down her long neck. She wore a linen robe embroidered with pale green dragonflies, one side having slipped down her shoulder. Jon wanted her to turn around so he could see her, but stayed watching her in silence. 

She lifted a cloth from the basin, repeating the trickling sound he'd heard as she pressed the excess water from the rag. Then she touched it to her body, washing away all of the sweat and seed he had stained her with in the night. 

Jon moved quietly to the foot of the bed for a better look, bringing his hand to his growing cock as he watched her. He pulled himself unabashedly as she brought the rag up over her exposed shoulder and then smoothed it up the side of her neck. A few drops of water escaped down her back, spilling in thin streams across her skin and darkening her linen robe in a damp stain. Then she pulled her robe back into place before lowering the other side. The sight of her long fingers dipping under the fabric, slipping it slowly down her shoulder, made Jon’s cock surge against his grip. 

Sansa continued to cleanse herself, at one point turning to the side just enough for Jon to see the curve of her breast peaking around her arm. He pumped his cock faster, squeezing down hard each time he reached the tip. 

“I can ask them to bring fresh water for you if you’d like to wash up when I’m finished,” she said knowingly. Jon paused for moment, surprised to have been caught, but he is in no way deterred. Sansa glanced at him over her shoulder with a quick smirk before returning to her task. 

He centered himself on the edge of the bed, planting his feet beneath him on the floor, and then closed his hand around his cock once again. She pulled the dripping cloth from the basin and Jon groaned as she reached forward, pushing the cloth down the long expanse of her legs. Sansa took her time with it. Her legs were parted slightly and the morning light that spilled through the window made her robe so sheer he could nearly see the folds of her cunt. The round curve of her ass, bent over and spread open for him, it was just too much. 

“Turn around,” he commanded roughly. “Let me see you.” 

Sansa straightened herself again and obeyed, turning to reveal her nakedness as her robe hung open, slipping off both her shoulders now. He stroked his cock, watching her move the cloth along her tits, rubbing and circling each one with far more attention than was needed for basic cleansing. Then she brought it down between her legs. Her eyes stayed fixed on him as she rubbed back and forth, becoming aroused by both the friction and the dark expression on his face. She liked being the reason he needed to touching himself, to have that power over him. It made her want more, to discover all of the ways she could make him come apart. 

“Would you like to wash?” Her voice was low and cool. 

“I may never wash again,” he replied as his pumping sped up. “I’d gladly go to my grave with your slick still on my cock.”

She smiled and dipped the cloth into the basin once more, then she went to him with it. Towering over him, Jon continued to stroke himself as he looked up at her from the bed, reaching out a hand to touch her hip. Sansa brought the cloth to his chest and he watched as she ran it slowly down his body, lowering herself as she went, too. Then she took his wrist and pulled his hand away from his cock.

“You’ll need to be clean,” she told him as she came to rest on her knees. Jon held his breath and watched as she wrapped to cloth around him, sliding it up at down in a firm, twisting motion. “That is, if you want a Queen’s mouth on you.”

“Sansa,” he moaned, placing his hand over hers. “You don’t have to…”

She freed her hand from his and dropped the cloth on the bed before bringing her fingers back to his cock, touching his bare skin with hers. “But what if I want to?”

Jon swallowed hard, and before he could attempt to form another word she pressed her lips to him. His entire body rushed with heat and he clenched his eyes shut as his head fell back. It was too intense, but he forced himself to open his eyes again and return them to her. He’d probably never experience something like this again and he wanted to cement every detail of it to memory. 

Sansa sucked softly on the spongy tip for a while, barely pulling him past her lips. Then he felt her tongue start to flick back and forth, teasing his hole, tasting what must be dripping from it by now. She was still holding him at the base and Jon inhaled a deep breath when she started moving her hand up and down, slowly, cruelly. He felt like he could come at any moment, but did all he could to hold it off. 

Then her eyes looked up into his and his heart stopped for several beats. His brain was so flooded with desire and depravity that he couldn’t begin to form a rational thought. He just needed more. Jon reached out and cupped the side of her face, the tips of his fingers pushing just into her hairline. Then, staring into her trusting eyes, he pulled on her gently, pushing his cock a little further into her mouth. The sight made him moan, and when she pressed her tongue flat against him, he slid her back up his length, then even further back down again. Jon swore. “Fuck, Sansa, look at what you're doing to me.” 

This made her smile, as well as anyone can smile with a cock in their mouth, and then she sucked him a little harder. A small slurping sound started coming from her mouth and he continued to guiding her up and down his length, watching it grow wetter with her spit. Then he felt her fingers slip from their hold around his base. She slid her hand lower and when she cupped his balls in her palm he accidentally thrust into her, bumping her throat and causing her to gag. She released him for a moment to swallow and wiped the spittle dripping down her lips. He started to apologize but then she brought him into her mouth again, continuing her task as if she were as eager for it to go on as he was. 

Sansa worked him with her mouth at a steady pace, pressing her lips tighter around him as she sucked. The sight of her here before him was nothing like he’d imagined on all those lonely frozen nights. She wasn’t the picture of a debased highborn lady, brought to her knees for the pleasure of her depraved bastard brother. She was Sansa, a Queen in command of herself, and certainly of him. Jon was hopelessly aware in that moment of just how much she now had him under her control. All of him - his heart, his life, his future, they were hers forever now. 

“Sansa,” he moaned desperately, feeling his end growing near. She looked up at him again, still coaxing him with her hot, wet mouth. He wanted to warn her, to tell her to stop before it happened. But when her eyes met his with a lust matching his own, he decided to give in fully to his baser needs. “Can I spill, sweet girl,” he asked desperately as he pulled her down on him a little farther. “Can I come in your mouth?”

A slight nod was all he waited for before he fisted his hand into her hair, clenching so tightly a soft cry rose up from her throat, but it was quickly silenced by his release. Three spurts shot into her throat before Sansa had to pull back a little. The rest of it filled her mouth, pooling on her tongue where she held it, unsure of what else to do. When he finally pulled his cock from her lips, a thin trickle spilled down the side of her mouth. 

Jon grabbed the cloth she’d used to clean him and a wiped the his seed from her chin, before cradling the rag in his hand below her mouth. “Spit it in here,” he told her softly, and she did. Then he laid the soiled thing on the floor and lifted her up to him, pulling her into his lap, and kissed her slowly. 

The bitter taste of his seed on her tongue sent another pulse through his softening cock, but he was far too spent to harden again just now. Instead, he feasted on her perfect mouth a while longer, trying to express his unyielding devotion as best he could with his tongue pressing against hers. All he wanted was to pull her back into the haven of their bed and worship her day and night for the rest of his life while the world outside their door faded from existence. But eventually she took her lips away and told him they needed to get dressed. 

“I agreed to stay at Castle Black for a while longer,” she explained as she pulled her shift on and tied the laces in place. “But that doesn’t mean I can spend that time hidden away while you ravish me endlessly.”

“Why not?” he protested. “A Queen can do as she likes.” 

Sansa smirked at him and then tossed him his tunic. Finally, he stood and began to dress as well. “So, how do you intend to spend your time then, Your Grace? What matters are so important that they would call you away from creating the future King or Queen of the North?”

“Call me away from your cock, you mean.” 

Jon lifted an eyebrow, amused with her growing boldness. “Aye, that.”

He had to turn away from her while she finished dressing, otherwise he was going to have to fill her once more before they left the King’s Tower. 

“I’m going to meet with the Lord Commander, check on the inventories and address any needs the Night’s Watch my have of me.” Ignoring the crude smirk he gave her, Sansa finished securing the clasps of her heavy woolen dress, depriving him of her body so intolerably soon after first being gifted with it. “Then I’d like to ride out beyond the Wall.”

“You would?” His attention was back on her words now, as this information truly surprised him. “Where are you going to go?” 

Jon watched her as she sat at a small table with a mirror atop it. She began smoothing and braiding her hair, molding herself back into the contained, stoic ruler that the people adored. His cock was aching, sore from so much use after so having so little these past years, but it pulsed again sharply with the thought of Sansa’s always-perfect composure falling apart entirely, just for him.

“Actually,” she explained, capturing his attention away from the memory. “I thought you should decide that.”

“There’s not much to see,” he answered truthfully. “Not anything close to the Wall, at least.”

“Who says we have to stay close to the Wall? Besides, it doesn’t really matter where we go. I’d just like to see it, that’s all.” She turned to face him, smiling at him so softly. “I want to see your kingdom, Jon, if you’ll show it to me.” 

He took her hand, helping her to her feet, and then pulled her close as he peered into her beautiful eyes. “It would be my privilege, Your Grace.”


	4. The Haunted Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon takes Sansa beyond the Wall.

When they stepped out of the King’s Tower Jon felt disoriented to be faced with the real world again, especially as he saw the way people regarded Sansa, bowing their heads in reverence and addressing her with her royal title. This was his first true encounter of her as Queen. For a moment, he wondered whether he should be walking a few paces behind, but then Sansa slipped her hand into the bend of his arm as if it were the most natural of gestures, as if she were his. 

They broke their fast with the Lord Commander and Sansa praised him for the progress the Night’s Watch had made on reconstruction. He also gave a report on the current state of Eastwatch. It was mostly unmanned, though he had a rotation of men keeping watch over passage through the fallen portion of the Wall while the trading port was being rebuilt, a combined effort of both the Northern and Southern crowns. 

This surprised Jon. He hadn’t been back to Eastwatch since his mission to capture a wight, and he’d not heard about a trading port. When they were alone again, preparing to ride beyond the Wall, he asked her about it.

“Bran and I have been in joint talks with the Iron Bank of Braavos,” she informed him. “We’re working on a trade agreement that we believe could benefit all regions of the continent.”

“By all regions, do you mean…”

“Well if I had been aware there was a King Beyond the Wall, I would have invited you to join in the negotiations. But yes, we were assuming the Wildlings would benefit from the import of resources as well. I haven’t pledged any reciprocation from your people, though. I know that isn’t my place. I just wanted to make sure they had access to resources should they need them, especially once Winter comes again.”

Jon just looked at her, lost as to what he might say. Not only had Sansa worked to strengthen her own lands and people, but she had assumed the role of providing for his as well. And she did it all while honoring their freedom. Words couldn’t have expressed all that he felt for her in that moment, even if he’d managed to find any. So instead, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, hoping she could understand. 

Sansa had informed her guards that she preferred to go with Jon unescorted, insisting that she would be safe with him, and asserted that this would show good faith in establishing better relations with the Wildlings. 

In truth, she just wanted to be alone with him. It wasn’t that she feared her men seeing their affection for each other. They wouldn’t question the Queen’s choice to do as she pleased, and she was sure they had worked out the gist of how she spent her evening considering they’d manned her door. It was more that she hoped to escape her title for a while. She wanted it to feel like it had before, when they were just Jon and Sansa, two lost souls finding each other again. 

They rode out, meandering slowly so they could talk as they traveled further and further into the wild country. When they arrived at the Haunted Forest, Jon took her to the weirwood tree where he'd sworn his vows. He stood in silence for a while, just looking at the face carved into the white bark, and Sansa found herself wondering whether he still prayed. 

She walked up beside him and took his hand, finally pulling his sad eyes from the heart tree, and when they fell upon her he smiled softly. 

“Will you tell me the words?” she asked in a cautious request. 

Jon hesitated, considering whether he could, but she gave his hand a soft squeeze and he took in a heavy breath before nodding. 

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come.” 

When he was finished, Jon sat on a dense root protruding from the ground, pulling Sansa gently down beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder, stroking his hand in hers. His sorrow was complicated, she knew that, and his desire to serve this cause once was more noble than anything she’d ever known. His choice to sacrifice so much in order to be the shield that guards the realms of men had saved them all, and he’d made that choice long before knowing what would come. 

“Why do they include taking no wife and fathering no children?” 

Her question was innocent, she truly wanted to know the purpose of this part. She could understand not holding lands or wearing a crown. It was important for the Night’s Watch to not have any fealty that might call them away from their post and into a war that didn’t belong to them. But was it really necessary to have no family? What better motivation is there to protect the realms of men than knowing your future generations were part of it?

“Because love is the death of duty.” His voice cracked as he spoke and Sansa lifted her head to look at him. He was crying. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright,” he told her, wrapping his arm around her and bringing her head back to rest against him again. “Maester Aemon told me that once, just after they’d arrested… Lord Stark. I wanted to leave, to abandon my post and join Robb in his fight to rescue all of you. He told me I would need to make a choice between honor and those I loved, but I chose wrong.” 

Sansa wiped a tear from her own eye and shook her head softly. “You didn’t, Jon. If you had left you would have been killed like the rest of them. And we would all have been killed by the dead.”

He didn’t respond to that and she didn’t try to convince him. They simply let the words float away in the light spring snow that had started to fall around them. 

“He was a Targaryen,” Jon said after a long silence.

“Who?”

“Maester Aemon. He was supposed to be King but refused the crown, choosing to become a maester and join the Night’s Watch instead. He once told me a Targaryen alone in the world was a terrible thing, but I’m not sure he was right.”

“Why?”

“He was talking about Daenerys. It was before she had left Essos and he believed she was all that remained of his family. I wonder sometimes, if she hadn’t met me, if I hadn’t been a threat to her rule…”

“You weren’t, though.” Sansa sat up and turned toward him, pulling both of his hands into hers.

“Jon, you are not responsible for what she did. You bent the knee, you told her over and over that you wouldn’t try and take her claim from her and if she was so concerned that you’d change your mind there were ways that could have made it official. Maester Aemon did it, you just said so. If anyone was a threat to her, it was me.”

“What are talking about?”

Sansa sighed, looking down for a moment as if she needed to confess something. “She came to speak with me after Ser Jaime’s trial and I told her the North swore we would never bow to anyone again. I know it probably wasn’t the best timing, but I was just so tired of playing games. We'd fought too hard to win back the North and…” 

“And I gave it away,” he interrupted. 

“That’s not what I'm saying,” she continued, squeezing his hands in reassurance. “I told you, I don’t blame you for what you did. But do you blame me, Jon? I did what I thought was right, too. Is it my fault then that she slaughtered all of those innocent people?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how can it be yours?” 

Jon didn’t have an answer for that. 

“Don’t you see by now? Everything had to happen the way it did. Bran told you as much, but I know it’s hard to accept. I struggled to understand it for a long time myself, but eventually he made me see.” Sansa lifted one of her hands to his face, stroking his cheek before placing a kiss upon it. 

“I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but you were the key to it all. Ice and fire, the two greatest threats this world has ever known, and you defeated them both. Jon, you were the shield.”

Another tear fell to meet the linger of her kiss, the pain of her truth burning along his skin. There was nothing left to say, so they brought their lips together and held each other close, their love the only peace remaining in all of it.

“Jon,” she whispered to him once she felt his pain begin to relax away. “Do you remember the fantasy you told me about, with the weirwood tree?”

He looked at her with one eyebrow raised, then she shifted her glance to the tree and he followed it. "Sansa…” 

She stood and pulled off her cloak, letting it fall to the ground in a soft pile at the base of the tree. Then she leaned her back against the carved face and stared at him, waiting, daring. Jon smiled a little before hardening his features again. He stood and his cloak fell to join hers. 

When he moved closer, Sansa took in a deep breath. Her body flushed with excitement as his eyes combed over her, dark and filled with desire. Jon’s tongue brushed his lips and his hand reached down, pulling her skirts into his fist. Then he knelt, just as he had the day he took his sacred vow. Now he would swear a new vow before the gods, a vow to serve his Queen, to taste her desire on his lips from this day until his last day. 

Sansa gulped crisp air into her lungs as he pushed her skirts to her waist, and then she released an echoing cry as he pressed his face to her cunt. Jon inhaled her, nuzzling against the soft, wet curls of her sex, filling his beard with her scent as if to mark himself as hers. She parted her legs at his urging, and he lifted one of her knees, pushing it back against the tree, opening her to him. Then he pulled his face back and looked at her, examining the exposed pink flesh within. 

Holding her still by the stretch of her leg, he brought his other hand down and pushed two fingers deep within her in a single thrust before slipping them back out, shining with her gathered slick. He moved his fingers to her folds, spreading her open and coating the lips of her cunt with her own desire. The cold air assaulted her tender skin, causing Sansa to tremble. Then the heat of his tongue met her, pressed flat against her clit as she called out his name, a flood of liquid gushing through her core. 

The effect of her response on him was maddening. All restraint was gone and Jon devoured her, sucking and slurping, lapping up her increasing flow of nectar, nibbling at her aching clit, eliciting more and more savage pleas for mercy from her straining throat. The leg she had planted on the ground began to buckle and Jon slid his hands to the back of her thighs, lifting both in his grip, as he supported the weight of her body by holding her legs open against the tree. 

Sansa raised both her arms above her, grabbing for something to hold onto as he suspended her off the ground and smothered her cunt with his face. He was gyrating into her, the lewd sounds of his mouth against her wet flesh growing louder and louder. His tongue went deeper with each stroke, pressing into her core and then pushing up, circling her clit, sucking it into his lips harder and harder until she was screaming like a beast of the forest. 

Then he pushed her knees up higher and dipped his tongue down low, tasting the tight pucker of her ass, already slick with the liquid dripping from her cunt. Sansa’s breath left her. She tried to fill her lungs, but all she could do was choke out weak, pleading moans as the stiff tip of his tongue pressed into her clenched hole. He opened her slowly, forcing himself deeper into her ass with each lick until she was pulsing around him. 

Sansa felt lightheaded, as though she might pass out from the sensation. Then she felt his tongue abandon her, leaving her gaping as he rested one of her legs around his shoulder and lowered his hand. She gasped as she felt a finger press into her, coated with his spit, pushing firmly and carefully past her gripped muscles until she was filled to the knuckle with him inside of her. He kept still, fully submerged, plugging her with his thick forefinger, and then pushed his thumb into her cunt. 

She looked down at him in shock and he peered up at her, holding her gaze with intention as he began to stroke his thumb within her, pressing down against the bulge created by his finger inside her ass. Through the thick wall of her flesh, he rubbed his finger and thumb together in a dance that had every part of her clenching and squeezing as he watched her face begin to contort in need. 

“ _Jon_ ,” she managed to beg, and then his tongue returned to finish her off, assaulting her clit as she seized up in an orgasm so brutal that she released a stream of liquid, squirting from her cunt across his chin and neck. 

Her legs shook violently against him and suddenly her weight increased as her body slumped forward from the tree. His fingers and tongue left her as he was pushed to his back against their cloaks on the ground, catching her to his chest as she fell upon him. Jon pulled her into a tight hug as she continued to convulse, whimpering in a crude mixture of grunts and gasps against his neck. 

When her body finally stilled he continued to hold her, his erection stoic inside his breeches, as he rested with pride from his achievement. He didn’t push for more just yet, knowing she needed time to recover. In truth, her coming apart like that was enough to satisfy him for the rest of the day, for the rest of his life if it came down to that. His heart swelled larger than his cock in that moment and he looked up to the face of the tree he’d pressed her into and said a silent prayer of thanks to the gods.

Sansa still hadn’t said anything, even though her breath had steadied, and Jon started to suspect she’d fallen asleep when the loud boom of a familiar voice pulled both their faces up with a jolt. 

“Fucking hell!” Tormund shouted as he approached. “I thought someone was slaughtering a goat out here.”

Sansa pressed her blushing face back to his chest as Jon failed to suppress a chuckle. Then they both stood, Sansa straightening her skirts as the large Wildling eyed her with a wide, mischievous grin. 

“I see you decided not to execute our King,” he joked, slapping Jon’s chest with the back of his hand.

“Not yet,” Sansa smiled. “It’s good to see you, Tormund.”

He pulled her into a crushing hug that caused her to release a slight yip, then he loosened one arm and pulled Jon into the embrace as well. 

“It’s about time,” he announced proudly, mussing both of their hair in his large hands. Then he stepped back again, releasing Sansa but keeping a thick arm around Jon. “You have no idea how miserable this poor bastard's been without you.”

Sansa glanced at Jon, seeing him grin shyly in agreement. It surprised her just how comfortable she felt in Tormund’s presence, knowing he’d just witnessed her ecstasy at the hands (and tongue) of her once brother. 

“What are you doing here?” Jon asked, clearing his throat in a sign that he felt less at ease with the audience. 

“I was on my way to Castle Black. I figured even if she had taken your pretty head, I never broke any oaths and I wanted to see my old friend.” Tormund smiled widely at Sansa again and it truly moved her that he considered her as such. 

“Jon was showing me your lands,” she offered kindly. “It’s a beautiful country.”

“Aye,” he smirked. 

Sansa blushed again but found the interaction more and more amusing, even thrilling. She remembered Jon’s descriptions of the Wildlings, their open and unabashed attitude toward sex. It made her feel almost a part of it, like she was becoming one of them. It made her proud. 

“Come,” Tormund commanded suddenly, clapping a hand on Sansa’s shoulder again. “You two must be hungry, and I have an elk roasting back at my camp.” 

He led them to where the rest of his party was settling for the evening and only then did Sansa realize the sun was starting to get low. She wondered for a moment whether she should be getting back to Castle Black, knowing her guards would be expecting her, but the thought eventually left her as the evening unfolded.

A large fire roared beneath the crisping flesh of their supper. Surrounding it were men, women, and children all laughing and telling tales of their wild lives. Tormund stood at one point, taking his turn at narration, and to Sansa’s surprise his story was about her. He told his people of the time the Wolf Queen fed her husband to his own dogs, embellishing and bragging, as if being part of the battle was a claim of great notoriety for him. 

Jon watched Sansa as she sat proudly observing the Wildling’s retelling of it. The fire reflected in her eyes and glowed in her hair, making it look as though she were aflame herself. Kissed by fire, he thought, as she’d never looked more beautiful. 

The evening drew on and after they’d all filled their bellies with elk and ale Sansa rested her back against Jon’s chest as she watched the little children chase each other. Then a woman, tall and strong, with long dark braids hanging to her ribs, began to sing. 

Her voice was low and haunting, the song a chilling tale of stolen love. She sang of Bael the Bard, a song Sansa had never heard before, though the Free Folk all knew it by heart. It made her cry and Jon held her close as they listened to the beautiful dark ballad together. 

That night, they stayed in the camp and Jon made love to her beneath their furs, serenaded by the sounds of others coupling around them. Breathing her release against his lip as his seed flooded her within, Sansa never dreamed she could feel so free.


	5. Beasts of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa return to Castle Black

Sansa and Jon arrived back at Castle Black the next day to find her anxious Queen’s Guard confronting them at the gates. They questioned Sansa so insistently that it bordered on inappropriate and one man eyed Jon threateningly, moving between him and his liege. Jon knew the man. He’d fought beside him thrice. The man had been a member of his own King’s Guard once, had followed him to Dragonstone and stood beside him as Jon surrendered his men’s weapons and ship to the Dothraki. The truth flooded him again, the last of his foolish bliss draining away as he looked into the man’s warning stare. He didn’t care what Sansa claimed, they did blame him. For everything. 

“Forgive me, my lords,” Sansa urged sincerely. “We had an unforeseen opportunity to meet with some of the Wildling leaders and by the time our talks had finished, we felt it too dark to travel back safely. I never meant to cause alarm. Truly, I am sorry.” 

The leader of her guard, a man with gray hair that Jon did not recognize, stepped forward and gave a slight bow. “No apologies needed, Your Grace. We only fear for your safety is all.” He looked at Jon directly then, his expression more forgiving, but it still came as a surprise when he chose to address the former King in the North. 

“I’ve no doubt you have our Queen’s best interests in mind, nor do I question your capability to protect her. Still, she means a great deal to her people, my lord, and we can be cautious to a fault at times, or so Her Grace often tells me.” 

The man seemed almost fatherly, Jon thought, as he turned back to Sansa and gave another small bow, along with a kind smile. Her people truly cared for her. It was plain to see any one of them would fall on a sword for her, and Jon had to imagine they would also shield her from any would-be usurper that would try and marry her for her claim. 

She was safe, as safe as she could be. But what would they do to him, should they learn he’d gotten a bastard on their beloved queen? Would they believe her if she told them she wanted it? Or would they fear she had been taken advantage of by yet another monster and act of their own accord? Perhaps they would, and perhaps he deserved it. 

“Jon?” 

It was her voice pulling him from his thoughts and he looked up to see her waiting for him by the gate. He nudged his horse and followed as they returned to the fortress he once called his home, the place where she’d returned to him, but now felt like some sort of limbo between her world and his. 

Jon was quiet throughout dinner that night and Sansa noticed but didn’t question it. She focused her attention on a few of the brothers in black who were giving an animated retelling of the battle they’d once fought against the Wildlings, back when Mance Rayder was King Beyond the Wall and Tormund their fiercest enemy. A hundred men against a hundred thousand, and these three were all that remained of those who’d been there, aside from Jon of course. 

Occasionally, Sansa would glance at Jon when they'd describe some harrowing detail, but he’d simply nod in confirmation and attempt a half-hearted grin before turning back to his food. Or his cup. By the end of the meal, Jon had emptied more than a few cups and Sansa realized the state he was in as they stood to retire and he stumbled a bit. 

She thanked the men for their company and was grateful that they were old friends of Jon’s, as they pretended not to notice his drunkenness when she announced that he would be escorting her safely to her room. 

Once inside the King’s Tower, Jon dropped his cloak to the floor and slumped into a chair near the hearth, his head swaying to rest against his hand. Sansa watched him for a moment as she quietly removed her own cloak, then picked up his and hung them both near the door. She took off her boots and belt as well, then relaxed into the chair opposite him. 

The adventure they'd shared beyond the Wall played in her mind and she smiled to herself, recalling the way he held her under their furs. They slept outside in the wilderness, beneath the stars with no shelter and no defenses against the wild beasts of the night, yet she had never felt so safe. They _were_ the beasts and no harm could ever reach them.

She stretched her legs, lifting her feet to his lap, and he looked up at her as if waking. He smiled a little, bringing his hands to her toes and rubbed them gently with his wide thumbs. 

“Are you alright?” Her voice was soft and knowing, but not intrusive. 

Jon gave a small nod and shifted his ministrations to the swollen balls of her feet, using both hands to work one foot at a time now. 

“Mmm… that feels nice.” 

Sansa stretched back further in her chair. The attention he was giving her sore feet was dragging her into a deep relaxation. Without meaning to, she started to shift the foot he wasn’t rubbing across his crotch. Then she was suddenly alert again as she felt him rock against her, his cock hardening beneath her toes. 

“Don’t stop,” she warned. His hands had paused when she started to press more against him, sliding her barefoot back and forth across his tightened breeches. Jon started to rub her again and she continued to rub him back. When he’d switch feet, so would she, both of them pressing harder with each turn. 

Sansa started to need rubbing somewhere else, so she slid her skirt up her legs until it piled around her hips, exposing her bare cunt to him. Jon swallowed as he watched her bring a delicate hand to herself and begin exploring her folds. 

“I said don’t stop,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she touched the wet heat between those pulsing lips. She extended her middle and longest finger deep inside herself until her knuckle rested against her entrance. Jon groaned and bucked against her foot again as she slid it back out, coated in her slick. Sansa brought her hand up to study the wet finger with curiosity, gliding her thumb across the silky texture. 

Then she locked eyes with him and Jon froze again, his lips falling open as she sucked her finger into her mouth. At first she seemed to just want to taste it, to taste herself, but then she started to move her finger in and out slowly, pressing her lips as if she were sucking a cock. 

“Make yourself come,” he growled, pulling both of her feet flat against his bulging crotch. “Let me watch you.” 

Sansa smiled and brought her hand back to her cunt, teasing herself with two fingers now as her palm pressed against her mound. Jon rocked against her again, and she continued to rub him through his trousers as she rubbed herself while he watched. 

Her fingers slid up and down in a smooth motion, shifting from her clit down to her pooling entrance and back again, teasing herself and teasing him too. Then she spread her fingers, opening her lips wide to reveal the glistening pink skin hidden beneath. 

Jon inhaled sharply and then pushed his hands between her feet, opening his laces in a desperate, drunken rush, pulling his cock out and resting the hard, aching rod against his stomach. He pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it to the floor so that he could move against her without its hindrance, then he pulled her bare feet back against his heated flesh. 

Sansa stroked him, her feet pressed to his cock from both sides, as he thrust back against her. Her fingers continued to hold the lips of her cunt open wide and she brought her other hand down to explore the sensitive area more. She pinched her clit between her thumb a forefinger, gently at first, then a bit harder and hissed. 

Jon gripped her feet in his hands, moving them along his shaft at his own pace now and he continued to fuck into her. “That’s it, sweet girl. Play with your pussy. Make it drip for me, let me see it.” 

She started to move her fingers in a circle around her clit, the way he does with his tongue, and Sansa whined softly with pleasure. Jon saw her tight hole dilate a little as more slick pooled at her entrance. 

“You’re so wet. Does it turn you on to touch yourself in front of me, Sansa?” 

She bit her lip and nodded, sighing, “Mhmm…” 

“I know it does. You’re so filthy for your savage brother, aren't you? Mmm… that’s it. Gods can you feel that? Do you feel it dripping?” 

“Yes, I can feel it.” She sounded almost shy, but he was going to have none of that. 

“Touch it," he instructed roughly. "Feel how wet you are for me. Fuck yourself with your fingers.”

She moved her hand lower, obeying his command, and stuffed her fingers deep inside the soaking well of her cunt. A lewd squishing sound escaped as she pushed in and out, her slippery skin allowing her to sink in again and again with increasingly rapid strokes. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he pressed himself harder against her feet. “That is so fucking sexy, sweet girl.”

She moaned as she continued to fuck herself hard, her hips moving in a circling motion now as her fingers pounded deeper and deeper into her gaping hole. The hand she had holding herself open released the lips of her cunt and moved to her clit, pressing it down as she kept rocking, inching closer to the edge of her peak. 

“Do you see now?” He was practically panting as his cock pushed against her feet, his pace climbing with hers. “Do you see why I need to be inside of you, filling you, drinking your sweet cunt every chance I get? Taste it again. Put it on your tongue once more before you come.”

Sansa pulled her sopping fingers out and devoured them, slurping and sucking her juice until she was clean, then she plunged them back inside with even greater force, her own mess now smeared across her lips. “Oh Gods!” she cried, lifting her hips against her hands. “Jon, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

“Yes, Sansa. Come for me. I’m so close. Make me spill with your cunt squeezing around your fingers.” She sped up her thrusts as slick splattered against her skin and she moaned again. “That’s it, louder. Let them all hear how good you fuck yourself. Let them hear you come for me.”

“Oh Gods!” she cried out. “Oh Jon! I’m coming! I’m coming!” She hooked her fingers and pulled up, spreading her thighs wide as she hit her peak. Liquid squirted from her depths with such a force it reached his lap, splashing the head of his cock trapped between her toes. 

The sensation hauled him over the edge and he echoed her cry as his cock started to pulse, spurting a fountain of seed as he came all over her feet. 

Sansa fell back, dropping her hands away from her drenched cunt in exhaustion as he pushed slowly against her in the final waves of his release. Then, before she had time to catch her breath, Jon grabbed his tunic from the floor and coarsely wiped her feet clean of his mess. He shoved her feet from his lap and bent over to pull off his boots, then stood and rid himself of his breeches too. 

She watched his movements, still slumped and dazed from her peak with her skirt bunched at her thighs, her legs spread open in a lazy, vulgar display. Then she saw him reach for her and before she could process what was happening, he hoisted her up and slung her over his shoulder. 

If she had been in a clearer state of mind she might have worried over his drunken sway as he carried her to the bed, but the thought barely registered before she was flung roughly onto the furs. Then his hands were at her chest, ripping apart the seams of her dress, tearing it from her body and her shift along with it until she was naked beneath him. 

Jon shoved her back against the pillows as he covered her with his body, capturing her mouth in a greedy, violent kiss. His hands groped for her breasts pressed beneath his chest, clutching her so hard she winced against his lips. But it didn’t halt him, only spurred him on as his assault on her body grew rougher. 

He pressed his knees between hers, forcing her thighs apart, and without lifting his biting mouth from her lips he lunged forward, penetrating her with no warning or hesitation. He felt her body seize up at the invasion of his thick cock, and he swallowed the scream that rose from her throat.

He fucked her hard and unrelenting, his hands still locked in a painful grip around her tits. He finally freed her lips and moved his mouth to her throat, forcing another scream from her as he pulled the skin of her neck between his teeth. She didn’t tell him to stop but he wouldn’t have if she did. He was too crazed, too savage to regain any control now. His hips rutted against her viciously, drawing more and more cries from her lips. 

Then suddenly he pulled back, lifting to his knees above her. Jon allowed himself one brief moment of pause to look her over. She was red and swollen, sprawled out for him like the half-eaten prey of some wild animal. His cock surged at the sight of her and Sansa's crazed, rolling eyes tried failingly to focus on him again. He reached between her legs, gripping the inner flesh of her thigh, and lifted up, flipping her over in one powerful pull onto her stomach. 

Sansa pressed her face and hands against the furs, trying to steady herself, to lift her weakened body upright, but it was no use. She collapsed limply into the mattress, submitting to his will as her body was too overwhelmed to put up a fight. 

Jon slid his hands under her hips and lifted her up onto her knees, though her arms and face remained resting against the furs. All she could do was close her eyes and sink her forehead against the bed, letting the dizzy rush crash over her, as he pushed his cock back into her from behind. His groin pressed flat up against her ass and he held her tight, gripping her hips in his fists as he pushed as far inside of her as he could reach. Then he started to pound her without restraint, slapping his thighs against the back of hers, slapping his balls against her throbbing clit, until she finally rose up onto her hands and arched her back for him, howling like the wolf she is. 

He released one of his hands as the other continued to pull her back against him in brutal thrusts. Then he reached forward and twisted his fingers into her hair before yanking it into a tight fist. Sansa hissed in pain, but he felt her gush around his cock and she started to slam back against him with equal force. He pulled her hair again and she cried out desperately. Then she made him lose all sense as profane filth started falling from her lips.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Yes, harder! Oh shit, oh gods… Take me like a dog, like a bitch.”

“A _wolf_ ,” he growled, and Sansa clenched so tight around his cock it made his rhythm falter for a moment. But soon he was pounding her again, even harder if that were possible. The crude sounds made by their wet, slapping flesh echoed throughout the chamber and the force of his thrusts were knocking the heavy bed against the stone wall in an unmistakable beat. 

“Oh gods, Jon!” She was just openly screaming now, getting louder and louder with each moan, as if she were trying to reach every ear in the North with the proclamation of her impending peak, brought on by her bastard brother savaging her royal cunt. 

“Jon! Fuck, Jon I’m going to come. I’m going to come all over your cock! Take me! Shit, harder, harder! Fill my cunt, Jon, I need it, please! Put a baby in me, give me your bastard. Give me your dragon seed, oh fuck, aaahhhh!!!” 

Jon exploded in a confusing rush of sensations, his cock releasing stream after stream deep inside her tight, grasping cunt while his head spun viciously around her words. Then they both collapsed, breathless and wordless, splayed out across the furs in a twisted, naked mess. And that’s how they stayed, sleep drowning them both before either had a chance to think on any of it.


	6. Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon makes a terrible mistake.

When Sansa woke the next morning, Jon was gone. She sat up in bed, a sinking feeling already tugging at her gut before she even saw the letter waiting for her on the table. She was furious, too furious to give any acknowledgement to her heart being ripped apart. 

Part of her wanted to burn the letter without reading it, but once she’d dressed and packed, with one foot out the door, she gave in and unfolded the parchment baring her name. 

_Sansa,_

_I don’t expect you to forgive me, so I won’t ask that of you. I only hope I was able to give you what you wanted, what you deserve. You deserve to be happy with a family of your own, but despite your faith in me, I was never going to be good enough –_

She couldn’t take anymore and tore it up without reading another word. She flung the shredded parchment into the flames with a raging cry and a promise to herself that this would be the last time she succumbed to the pain of Jon Snow. Then she gathered her party and rode south without looking back. 

***

Jon got as far as the edge of the Haunted Forest when the blinding reality of what he’d done punched him in the face. Panic coursed through his veins and he immediately turned his horse around, racing back to Castle Black in a quarter of the time it had taken him to ride out, all the while cursing himself and rehearsing his apology in his head. But when he got there, she’d already left. 

***

Sansa returned to her daily routine, catching up on work that had collected while she was away. In truth, her people had kept things running just fine without her and the progress of the North’s reconstruction was perfectly on track. Still, she needed to keep herself busy so she pushed herself to find more to do. 

She noticed her guards keeping an usually watchful eye on her, and she knew why, so she exaggerated her façade of nothing being amiss. At night though, late at night, when she would finally put away her scrolls and ink to retire, she sometimes found herself slipping into moments of grief as she rested upon her pillow. But she’d learned a long time ago how to push those feelings away. 

It had been almost a month since she’d returned to Winterfell when she found herself imprisoned in a particularly fitful sleep one evening. Her dreams were terrible and relentless, and even though she was somehow aware that she was sleeping, she couldn’t force herself to wake. Only when a hand closed over her muttering lips did her eyes jut open at last. 

The dark shadowed his face, but she knew instantly that it was him. Confusion and fury flooded her at once, and even though it was Jon, she tried to scream. His hand muffled her attempt and that just angered her even more. 

“Sansa,” he whispered harshly in the dark, “please just listen to me. I made a mistake, I was wrong. Please, you have to forgive me. You just _have_ to. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you and I know I don’t deserve you.” She growled at him through his hand. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m so _so_ sorry.” 

Sansa breathed heavily against his palm, but she no longer seemed to be trying to call for help. Slowly, Jon removed his hand from her mouth and placed it by her leg on the bed. 

“How did you get in here?” she demanded through gritted teeth.

“Through the window.” He gestured to the grappling hook sunk into her windowsill. 

“ _What?_ ” Her body started to tremble with rage. “What in Seven Hells do you think you are doing?”

He took a few deep breaths, and then she felt his hand grip the side of her thigh through the furs. Sansa tensed up at him, warning him with her recoil, but Jon kept his touch firmly in place. 

“I can’t be without you, Sansa. I won’t make it. You might hate me for this, but I will just have to spend the rest of my life trying to gain your forgiveness.”

“Jon,” he was beginning to scare her, “what are you talking about?” She felt his hand tighten around her leg and then his voice breathed hot against her in a shuddering rasp. 

“I’m going to steal you.” 

She gasped, and then felt his hand release her as the rest of his body reached forward. With an instinctual reflex, she rolled to the other side of her bed in a swift dodge that left him capturing the pillow instead of her. He fumbled around in the dark for her until he closed one hand around her ankle, yanking her back to him as she yelped with surprise. It wasn’t enough to call the attention of her guards though and when he pulled her against his chest, he pressed his hand to her mouth again. 

He started to lift her from the bed, but before they rose an inch he felt something cold and sharp press to his neck and he released both hands from her completely. Sansa pushed the knife she’d retrieved from its place hidden by her bed harder against his skin, forcing him to his back on the mattress. Keeping his hands raised to the side, she leaned closer to him in the dark, baring her teeth above him in a threatening snarl. 

Jon didn’t twitch a muscle in his body, keeping his breath shallow as the blade could easily open his throat if he were to even swallow. She angled the tip of her knife just beneath his jawline and when she spoke she practically spat in his face with her threat.

“If you ever… _ever_ so much as even _think_ of leaving me again, I will cut your throat Jon Snow. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he whispered in a plea. “I swear it, Sansa. I’ll never do anything so stupid again.”

Finally, she pulled the knife away and tossed it on the bed beside him. Then she stared down at him, still frozen in his posture of surrender, before crushing her mouth down upon his. He clutched her to him desperately, both arms wrapped around her back as she moved to straddle his hips. Sansa’s fingernails clawed into the side of his face as her tongue shoved past his lips and choked his throat, her unabated anger feeding her desire.

Soon they were pulling on each other’s clothes, him shoving her night shift around her waist and her ripping open his laces of his breeches, until he pushed inside of her at last. Sansa hissed in relief as the fullness she’d grown to crave found her again, finally, and she then bucked her hips hard, riding him fast and rough as he heaved beneath her.

“Sansa,” he moaned, but she shoved her hand over his mouth to silence him. She didn’t want to hear anymore words from him now. She was furious still, and the pleasure she took from his cock as she slammed her hips down upon his would only be ruined if he tried to say anything more. 

Jon gripped her hips beneath her gown as he tried to hold onto her, to hold onto his wits, but her thrusts were overwhelming and unrelenting. Her ass slapped down against his aching balls, her slick cunt soaking his abused cock. She dug her nails into his shoulder as she held on with the hand not covering his mouth, pounding up and down on top of him as if she were galloping on a wild runaway steed. 

Sansa rode harder and faster, with savage grunts pushing through her gritted teeth, until suddenly he felt her walls clenching down on him in a brutal, pulsing release. Jon came instantly then, his cock spurting and convulsing within her as she muffled his desperate cries beneath her hand. Then suddenly, in a move even more abrupt than when she’d mounted him, Sansa ripped her body away. 

She left him panting on the bed, his recovering cock glistening in both their fluids as it flopped back against his hip. Then he watched in a confused haze as she began to dress. She felt his seed dripping down her thighs as she pulled on her cloak and when she’d finished lacing her boots Sansa glared at him and said, “Well then, get on with it.”

He sat up, blinking hard a few times to try and clear his head, then he stared at her in an attempt to decipher her meaning. 

“Do what you came here to do, Jon.” 

Still catching his breath, he stared a moment longer to be sure of what he’d heard. But when her eyebrow lifted into a daring sneer he leapt from the bed, barely remembering to tuck his cock back into his breeches, and then hoisted her over his shoulder.

***

By the time he pulled his horse to a stop they were miles away from Winterfell, deep in the Wolfswood with only the full moon spilling its light through the trees to guide their way. Jon lowered himself from his saddle and then helped Sansa down after him. 

She looked around, not recognizing where they were. The trees were dense and Sansa could hear the echoing sounds of wild creatures of the night in the dark. An owl hooted loudly above them before flying off and Sansa gasped as she moved closer to Jon. 

“Don’t worry,” he soothed into her ear as he brought his arms around her. “Ghost is roaming nearby. We’re safe.”

Sansa took another cautious glance around them, though it was too dark to see very far, then she brought her eyes back to Jon who seemed to be watching her carefully. She was sure he needed more assurance that she forgave him, and she did, though whether or not she still wanted to make him sweat was undecided. 

Jon took her hand in a gentle request. “Will you walk with me? I want to show you something.” 

She followed him further into the forest, the trees too thick for even a horse to pass through now, and they climbed over thick roots and fallen logs until they came to a small clearing that opened up before them like a secret world she never knew existed on her own land.

There was a small pond, glistening beneath the moonlight that was brighter here where the trees broke away. At the opposite end of the pond was a weirwood, smaller than any other of these ancient trees she’d ever seen. It’s as if it were planted more recently, and with its location so secluded it occurred to Sansa that the Children may have tried to preserve their endangered sacred trees by hiding them from the access of men. 

“How did you find this place?” she asked in wonder. 

“I got lost once when I was just a child, probably no more than eight. Robb and I had been hunting, and at dusk he wanted to go back while I was still determined to track down the doe who’d spent all day eluding me.”

As he told her the story, Jon guided her to a soft stretch of mossy earth just beneath the weirwood tree and then laid his cloak out for her to sit upon. She lowered herself down but to her surprise he remained on his feet, tracing patterns in the dirt near the edge of the pond with his boot. 

“Did you ever get her?” she asked, and when he looked back at her as if waking from a dream she clarified, “The doe, did you end up finding her?”

Jon smiled a little and nodded. “I tracked her and lost her over and over until I finally stumbled upon this pond. By the time she showed herself to me fully, I was so lost in the beauty of this place that I couldn’t bring myself to loose the arrow. I even started to believe she’d guided me here for some reason.” 

“Really?” Sansa never took Jon for a believer, in anything really. He kept the old gods, but she didn’t have much insight into how he truly felt about such things. “What do you think was the reason?” 

Jon stared out into the water for a moment longer, as if searching for the truth of it within himself, then he turned back and moved beside her beneath the tree. Sansa removed her own cloak and laid it down for him. The spring evening brought a crisp chill to air, but his body close to hers kept her warm enough.

“I was just a boy,” he began, pulling a young blade of grass from the earth. “It’s easy to create stories in your mind when you’re a child, and easier still to believe them when it’s what you need.” 

Sansa watched him twist the blade between his fingers, then lifted her eyes to his and saw a bit of sadness in them. “What was it that you needed to believe, Jon?” 

He sighed, dropping the grass from his hands. “That there was a place for me here, somewhere that was my own,” he told her shyly. “A spot in the world that was carved out just for me. Somewhere that didn’t already belong to Robb and I was just tolerated in it.”

“Jon,” she whispered. He smiled softly at her and took her hand, but she could still see the sadness behind his eyes.

“I know it’s foolish, and I should probably be embarrassed admitting this to you, but when I came here I would pretend I wasn’t a bastard. I’d call myself Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, and talk to the birds and fish as if they were my subjects. Sometimes even that doe would turn up as I was holding court. At least, I think it was the same one.” 

Sansa squeezed his hand a little tighter, and leaned her head against his shoulder. She imagined it while he spoke, Jon as a little boy sneaking off to a place where his fantasies were to be the one thing he never could, a true Stark. A tear fell from her eye but she tried to conceal it against his tunic. She didn’t want to shame him with her pity. 

“What happens now?” she asked quietly after they’d both sat a while longer in their reveries. Jon looked down at her resting against his arm, not understanding the question. “What do the Wildling men do next, once they’ve stolen their woman?” 

“That’s all, really. It’s mostly about the man just being able to survive the process of stealing her, then taking her away from her land and bringing her to his. This was the closest I could come.” 

“Really? That’s all there is to it?” She sounded almost disappointed. 

“Well, there is one other part.” 

Jon lifted his hand to her hair, brushing some strands behind her ear as he held her face. Sansa stared at him, forgetting all anger she’d held and forcing herself to forget the fear of losing him again as well, at least for now. 

He kissed her slow, his lips almost timid as they moved across hers. It was more of his apology, not just for abandoning her at Castle Black, but for everything, all of it. Jon knew – he’d always known, really – that nothing could ever be right in his world without her there. 

Sansa lay back on the fur beneath the tree and Jon sat watching her for a moment, just soaking in the sight of her in the moonlight. Her auburn hair fell around her face and shoulders, fanning out in soft waves against his cloak. He reached down and touched it, gliding his finger through the silky strands that came to rest on her arching breast. Then he undressed her. 

They made love under the stars, naked and uninhibited in their passion, calling each other’s name so loudly it echoed across the tops of the trees. Jon pressed himself into her as she lay beneath him, his lips tasting her neck and shoulders and breasts. Then, as another peak raised her up into his arms, he pulled her on top of him as he shifted back against the tree. 

With her thighs spread wide around him, Sansa lifted her hands to the tree above him, pressing the rough white bark as she rocked her hips, riding out the arc of her peak. Jon captured her neck with his lips again as he reached his end deep inside of her. Her cheek pressed against his as they caught their breath, his hands tracing up and down the long stretch of her back and she continued to roll her hips slowly while they recovered. 

After resting with him softening inside her a while longer, Jon nearly fell asleep, but then Sansa lifted herself to her feet and the image of her naked, standing tall above him, had him wide awake once again. He watched as she stretched her long arms above her, arching her back as she drank in the night air, the curve of her perfect ass level with his face. He was tempted to drag her back to him, but then she turned and smiled, catching him staring at her form. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” she said playfully. 

“Now? Don’t you think it will be too cold?” 

She’d suffered colder, and so had he, but Sansa wouldn’t let herself think on that now. Instead, she smirked at him and then stepped into the pond, forcing herself to not flinch. When she was thigh-deep, she turned to look at him again, defiant and victorious in her bravery. 

Jon laughed as he watched her easing her way in to the water. Then he stood, his cock half hard again already, and moved to the edge of the water. Sansa held her hand out for him, but then she gasped as he instead jumped in, submerging himself fully beneath the now broken mirror of the surface. 

When his head and torso burst back up, a crisp splash rained over her, making her gasp as her nipples hardened and her body pebbled with gooseflesh. He laughed at her again while she swore at him, her hands held out defensively against the spray.

“Jon!” she cried out as he grabbed her hand and pulled her down into the deeper water, wrapping his arms around her as she struggled and shivered against him. But then she submitted into a fit laughter as he pressed his teeth to her neck with an exaggerated growl. 

Soon their lips found each other’s again and suddenly the water didn’t seem so cold. His tongue explored her mouth and his hands groped her body beneath the surface of the pond. 

“Thank you,” he whispered between kisses. 

“For what?” 

Jon stopped a moment and stared deeply into her eyes, bringing a wet hand to her face. “For letting me steal you,” he explained. “For letting me make you mine. Sansa, from the moment I first saw you again, before any… before all that happened… I wanted this. To be with you, forever, to make love to you and watch you grow round with our child. But I never imagined it could be possible, no matter how much I longed for it to be. And now you’re my _wife_.” 

With this last word, something shifted in her. He felt it even before she moved away. Jon watched, his heart breaking, as she swam to the edge of the pond and sat on a large smooth stone in the shallow water. 

All manner of frightening thoughts raced through his mind in an instant. Had she changed her mind? Was this a joke to her? Was it cruel revenge for leaving her as he did? He would deserve it if it were, but Jon didn’t think his heart could take it even so. Perhaps she didn’t understand. He thought she had when he explained the Wildling custom back at Castle Black, but maybe she didn’t consider such customs to be as true as he did. 

Jon approached her slowly, forcing his thoughts to slow down. “Sansa, what is it? Did I do something wrong?” He’d meant to ask if he said something wrong, but in truth he wondered whether he shouldn’t have done any of this. 

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. Then she looked back at him, but it wasn’t fear or anger in her eyes, or even doubt. It was guilt. 

He lowered himself in the shallow water, his knees resting on the soft earth below her, and Sansa reached for his hand and held it in hers.

“Sansa, do you not want to be my wife?” Jon’s voice was soothing, forgiving even, but there was still sadness in it. 

She moved the hand not holding his up to his face. “Oh Jon, of course I do. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” A tear fell down her cheek and Jon inhaled deeply with relief. 

“It’s just…” She hesitated long enough to spark fear in him again, but he squeezed her hand to let her know it was okay to say whatever she was trying to say. Then Sansa sighed and explained, “I was hoping to present our child as a bastard, at least the first one, the heir.” 

She could see he was confused, his face contorting with something akin to disgust, but she knew it wasn’t for their future child. It was a reflection of the life he’d suffered as a result of his own bastard status. But that was the point.

“Sansa, why would you–” 

“I don’t want our child to suffer as you did, Jon. I don’t want any child to suffer that way, not ever, not anymore.” 

He still didn’t understand and so she slid from the rock and moved her body closer to him, her arms slipping around his hips. Then she kissed him gently.

“I am queen now,” she continued. “I’m the first queen to be named, not as the wife of a king, but as the ruler they chose.”

Jon looked down, thinking he finally got it, but he still hadn’t. 

“If I tell the Northern lords that we are married, they would celebrate our rule together, some would likely even still consider us equals, but some would be relieved to have a king leading the kingdom once again. A king they love.”

“Sansa –” he tried to interrupt. She knew what he would say, that he’d never try to overstep her or question her right to rule. But she continued her explanation without giving him the chance.

“And I would be absolutely fine with that,” she lifted his eyes to hers so he could understand, “because it’s you. But what if we have a girl, and someday she faces the same fate, only the king she marries decides a woman should have no authority? Or what if we have a girl and then a boy after? Jon, I want things to be different. I intend to use my rule to set an example for those that come after me.”

“And you want to do that by having a bastard heir?” He wasn’t questioning her with disapproval at the idea, simply bewilderment. 

Sansa pressed herself closer to him and Jon instinctively pulled her legs up around his waist. 

“Don’t you see, Jon? If we have a child with a bastard name, and that child is loved and cherished as the rightful heir, no matter their status, no matter if they are a boy or girl, it won’t just protect the future of our family. It will start to change the way things are done in the North, for everyone. No longer will a child be outcast because of the circumstances they were born into. We will show them that the pack takes care of its own, just as it is done with the Free Folk.” 

Suddenly he understood everything. Whether it was her desire to protect bastard children, or the way she presented her plan as something she wanted them to do together, or simply her use of the term Free Folk over Wildling for the first time – whatever it was, Jon crushed her body in his grip and plunged his lips against hers again. 

Sansa squeezed her thighs against him and locked her ankles behind his back as their kiss grew more sensual with need. Soon she felt his cock lifting into her as she sunk down onto him with a desperate moan. 

There was nothing graceful about the way he took her, pulling and grunting without rhythm, only trying to press her body closer and closer to his own. 

“I love you,” he wept into her ear as he tangled her hair with his fingers. “Gods, I love you so much, Sansa. Whatever you ask of me, for the rest of my days, I will not rest until you have it.” 

Sansa whined, splashing the water about them as she writhed up and down on his length, her body trembling against him. He continued his grunting vows, drawing her closer and closer to her peak.

“If you want a bastard, I’ll give you one. I’ll fill your belly with ten bastards if you ask it of me.”

“Oh, Jon… don’t stop. I’m… I’m…” 

“Yes, Sansa. Would you like that? Do you want my bastard in you?” 

“I already have it,” she moaned, and then her body clenched down on him as he gasped. “Jon, I already have your child inside of me.” 

He let out a choked sob and then started to come as she pulsed around him, their bodies gripping and exploding together in unimaginable bliss. When the last spurt of his cock had been spent, Jon panted against the side of her neck as he tried to gather his sense of reality.

“Are you… did you mean…” 

His eyes were shut tight, his hands locked on her, too afraid to believe it until she brought his lips back to hers, kissing him deeply, then whispered, “Yes, Jon. It’s happened.” 

He cried, and so did she. They wept in each other’s arms until their tears turned to laughter, and that laughter turned to moans as they made love again and again, until the sun rose up the next morning.


	7. Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa struggle with being apart.

Queen Sansa continued her work setting up trade agreements with the Night’s Watch, requiring frequent visits to Castle Black and the occasional hosting of the Lord Commander at Winterfell, along with his traveling companions of course. 

On one such visit to the Wall, Jon waited eagerly for the Queen’s arrival in the King’s Tower, still deciding whether to address what was on his mind. 

For over a month they had been apart this time, and his need of her had been unbearable, for him and his people both. The elders urged Tormund to provide the King with distractions between visits with Sansa, but even the most daring and dangerous ‘missions’ proved ineffective in keeping Jon from brooding. 

The most recent attempt was a battle with a shadowcat and a snow bear, both former unwilling hosts of the Wildling warg, Sixskins. Looking to take revenge on the likes of men, the two predators had been terrorizing a nearby village of men during the night. Jon and Tormund hunted the beasts with the help of Ghost, earning victory only after they’d put up a bloody fight. 

As Tormund fumbled to sew closed a gash on Jon’s side with his thick fingers, Jon moaned, “Sansa does it in a row of exes, not a zigzag like that.” It was the last straw.

“Go back to fucking Winterfell!” Tormund roared to avoid strangling his friend. Jon jolted at the sudden outburst, ripping the stitches apart as he winced. 

“It's time to go home, Jon,” Tormund continued, lowering his voice. "You should just go back to Winterfell. 

Jon watched him as his gentle hands started stringing his skin together again. “I won't abandon my people,” he confessed, it was a confession that he’d considered it.

“We are our own people, Jon Snow, and so are you. You will always be our King, and I’ll let you know if we have need of this pretty face,” he patted Jon’s cheek and smirked. “But if you think it’s hard to be away from her now, what do you think is going to happen when the babe is birthed?”

Jon dropped the strain in his brow, along with his jaw.

“What, you thought I didn’t know? She might be fooling those Southern twats with her big furs, but I can see it in her face. We all can. The last time she rode out with you, her cheeks had softened and her hair could have been a beacon with how much it shined, it’s how I first saw you two coming.”

Jon had seen it too. Each time he saw her again she seemed somehow more radiant. Her breasts were full and heavy, her skin even more silken, but her hair was certainly the most noticeable change. Not only was it brighter than rubies, but she had started wearing it loose more and more, and the red waves were curling tighter like his, making Jon selfishly wonder if his seed were transforming her somehow. 

“You might not admit it now, but once that child comes you’re not going to be able to leave them.” 

He nodded, “Aye, I do admit it. But she hasn’t asked me to stay.” 

“So?”

Jon pulled on his tunic and reached for his cloak, ready to end the conversation. “If she wanted her people to know about us, she would tell them. That’s her decision.”

Tormund grunted and rolled his eyes, but said no more about it as they gathered their fresh skins and went back. 

Jon laid the pelts across the bed in the King’s Tower – a snowy white bearskin and a shadowskin, black with white stripes – gifts for the Queen. He sat by the fire drinking ale as he waited for her to come. A spring flurry had followed him as he traveled south to the Wall, nothing extensive, but the wait for her had been long enough for his mind to start questioning her safety on the roads. 

He drained the rest of his ale to drown his impatience, but when he lowered the cup from his lips she was there. 

A simple, “Jon,” was all that could escape from her lips before he rushed across the room and took them in a desperate, deep kiss. 

He pulled her close, one hand gripping the back of her neck as the other secured her to him at her waist with a hard press. 

His mouth ravished her, a starved man feasting at last. Her lips were bruised and her tongue throbbing by the time she lifted both hands to his chest, pushing him back enough to catch her breath. 

“Jon,” she panted again, her cheeks flushing from his attack, “let me at least close the door.”

Her face broke into a teasing smile, and he laughed at himself as he released her. “Apologies, my love. I’ve just missed you.”

“I see that,” she smirked, her eyes lowering pointedly at his erection as she bolted the lock. Then she removed her cloak and hung it on a hook by the door. “I’ve missed you too.” 

When she turned back to him, Jon’s eyes instantly lowered to her stomach. “Sansa,” he sighed dotingly. 

“What?” 

He was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before, as if the dress she’d worn – a simple, gray gown with embroidered weirwood leaves – were somehow astonishing and it puzzled her. 

“Jon, what it is?” 

“Come here,” he said quietly, reaching out a hand to her. 

She took it and to her surprise he walked her across the room to a full-length mirror by the bed. Then he stood behind her, watching her through the reflection as he slowly pulled open the laces at her back. 

Her gown opened, and Jon slid the heavy material to the floor, leaving her standing in only a loose ivory slip. Sansa watched through the mirror as his hands pulled her long hair back from her shoulders, letting it spill down her back. Then he touched her bare arms, tracing his fingers up to her neck and back down her body, around the curve of her breasts until they came to rest on her stomach. 

He pressed the hanging silk against her body and her small rounded belly took shape in his hands, just big enough for him to cradle. She smiled, leaning her head back against him as his lips skimmed across her neck. 

“I love you,” he whispered into her flesh, closing his eyes as his hands continued to caress her growing womb. 

Sansa watched him through the mirror, the possession of his touch heating her core. She rocked back against him in response and his hold tightened as he pulled her closer, pressing his need into her from behind. 

“It makes me so hard to see you growing round with my child,” he growled into her ear before closing his teeth upon it. 

One hand continued to hold her belly as the other slid between her legs, pulling her shift until he could reach her bare skin. “Does it please you to know how hard it makes me, Sansa?”

His fingers grazed her folds and she was dripping already. He found her eyes again through the mirror, her wild wolf stare meeting his, and she bit her lip. Then he watched her mouth drop open in a silent plea as he pushed two rough fingers deep inside her. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, holding her steady as her knees weakened from his touch. “My beautiful wife, pussy wet just for me.”

Sansa gushed at his use of the Wildling word and Jon fucked her faster. He was rubbing her belly, rutting his hips against her ass, and she quickly fell apart in his hand, having been deprived of his touch for too long. 

“Oh gods,” she gasped, lifting one arm behind her and grabbing onto his neck as she started to come. “Don’t stop, Jon. Oh fuck, yes, yes!”

Her eyes squeezed shut but he kept his own focused on the mirror, watching as her legs parted further and his fingers splashed against her release. 

He held her as she steadied on her feet again, then he stood back from her only far enough and for long enough to strip himself naked. He lifted her shift off her body and closed her in his grip again.

She turned her face to him, taking his lips with hers and he pressed his bare cock against her bare ass. His hands returned to her belly, circling it, gliding up to her full, sensitive breasts and back again. Then he moved one hand behind her, closing it around his cock. 

Jon broke their kiss to look at her in the mirror again as he rubbed the tip of his cock between her folds, peeking it out from between her legs for her to see. He watched her watching him, his straining hardness smearing in the aftermath of her peak as he wet his cock. Then he pushed into her, the sight of him entering causing them both to moan as much as the feel of it did, maybe even more so. 

He fucked her from behind, slowly, holding her hip with one hand and groping her body with the other. Sansa’s eyes traveled from the thick width of his cock disappearing inside of her to the hard flex of his arm wrapped around her, then up to his savage face. Their eyes locked and Jon’s push started to grow more aggressive. 

Soon he moved both hands to her hips, holding her steady and he snapped his body forward, her belly hanging down as she started to bend. Her tits swung in bouncing circles as he took her harder and harder, his balls slapping against her cunt in wet smacks, and her cries grew with the force of his thrusts. 

Sansa reached behind her for balance, finding purchase on his thigh. Jon continued to fuck her hard and fast, making her wail his name over and over until the choke of her voice and the clench of her cunt signaled another peak.

Jon moved one hand from her hips to her shoulder, lifting her back against him, then he moved his other hand to her clit, spinning his fingers in a fast circle as his arm curved beneath her bump. 

“Watch,” he commanded, and she did. “Watch yourself come on my cock Sansa, watch me fill you.” 

She gasped as her entire body started to convulse in his arms, her inner walls straining against his cock as she felt the first pulse of his release meet hers. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he growled in her ear. 

“Jon I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Oh fuck,” he grunted, shooting his pent-up seed relentlessly into her. “Yes, Sansa, gods, take it, take it all.” 

The last twitching snaps of his hips against her ass emptied him fully, and the tight grip of her cunt continued to pulsate as she pulled every drop deep inside. Then she finally relaxed her hold and his glistening cock fell from her, followed soon by his heavy load spilling out onto the floor.

Jon moved to face her at last, taking her lips in his as she wrapped her arms around his body. He walked her back until her legs bumped the edge of the bed and they both fell onto the furs he’d recently killed. 

His mouth consumed her, every inch of her, sucking her nipples, biting her clit, trailing her belly with his tongue before kissing it sweetly. Then he turned her over, lifting her hips and placing a pillow beneath them so that she was resting comfortably.

“What are you doing?” she barely asked, but then his tongue was pressing against her asshole and all she could do was moan. 

He lapped desperately at her like a dog, with both hands pulling her cheeks apart to help her open. Then he pushed in, as hard as he could, as far as he could, stretching his hard, thick tongue deep inside her ass. 

Sansa pressed her forehead into the black fur, her knees pushing against the white as she lifted herself higher to him. Jon smothered his face against her ass as he fucked her with his tongue, pulling one hand underneath her to thumb her clit.

The sudden press made her clench, forcing his tongue out of her tight hole as she squealed. Jon pulled his face back to examine her pucker more closely. He brought his thumb to his mouth, sucking it like a babe, tasting her pussy as he coated it in spit, then he pressed the tip against her.

“Jon,” she begged as he teased her rim, “put it in, please!” 

He obeyed, shoving his thick thumb into her asshole until she swallowed him down to the first knuckle. Sansa let out a grateful groan, and Jon smiled deviously as he paused there, going no deeper. He twisted his finger along the edge of her entrance and felt his cock surge as she started to sit herself back against him. Jon watched as she took his finger all the way, her tight grip hot against him.

“Gods.” He spat on his cock, wetting it as he stroked it with his free hand, already hard as a rock once again. “That’s it, fuck yourself on me, Sansa. You’re such a filthy girl, letting me play with your ass. Do you like that?”

“Mhmm…” she whined as she pressed back harder. “I love being filthy for you, my King. You’ve made me so depraved, touching myself every night because I need you. All I think about is pleasing you, letting you do anything you want to me.” 

“Yes, sweet girl,” he moaned, spitting on his cock again. “Let me fuck you, Sansa. Let me take you here.” He pushed his thumb deeper to show his intent, and then he emptied her ass of his finger and his tongue dipped in again, pushing further than before as a result of his stretch. 

“Take me, Jon. Fuck your filthy Queen like a savage.” 

He moaned into her ass, filling her with as much spit as he could, then he pulled back, bringing the slick tip of his cock to her rim. She hissed a bit as he started to push in, and he gripped her hard to steady himself against the urge to take her rough.

“Relax Sansa,” he instructed her gently. “Ease back onto me.” 

Sansa took a deep breath and did as he said, pushing back slowly as he guided her with his hand on her hip. He breached her barrier then waited until she settled a bit more before going further in.

“That’s it,” he encouraged as he felt her opening up to him. Jon watched himself disappear into her, further and further, until he was pressed fully inside her ass. “ _Gods_ , that feels incredible.”

Sansa moaned, lifting her head from the furs. “Oh Jon, it’s so full.”

He rocked his hips in a gentle circle, holding her to him as he throbbed inside of her. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl.” 

Then he slid back a few inches and felt her open even more, groaning, “ _Yes_ , Sansa.” 

He looked down again and nearly came as he watched his cock sliding in and out of her asshole slowly. She was starting to meet his thrusts with her own and soon he was fucking her steadily, spitting again to increase the glide. 

“Jon,” she whined, “harder, please.”

He saw her reach between her legs to play with her clit and he bit his lip as his hips slammed forward. 

She screamed, and he started snapping his hips harder, rippling the flesh of her ass with every push. “Yes, Jon! Take me!”

He did. He fucked her hard, filling her ass with his cock desperately as he grunted like an animal. Sansa writhed beneath him, her arm jerking as she rubbed furiously at her cunt. 

“I’m gonna come,” he announced suddenly, knowing there was no stopping now, “Shit, Sansa I’m –”

She started whimpering, her hips slamming back against his, and then her breath became hitched as she came apart. A shower sprayed from her cunt and hit his balls as Jon buried himself deep into her ass, unloading, his body bending over hers as he cried out in brutal release.

As soon as he could ease himself out, he fell to the bed by her side, panting on his back as she turned to face him. It took a minute for them both to find any words, but then Sansa moved her hand to his side and he looked down at her touch.

“What happened?” she asked breathlessly as her fingers traced his stitches. They were bleeding again, and her hand came away stained. 

Jon smiled and stood from the bed, crossing to retrieve a cloth from the basin before returning to her again. He wiped the blood from her fingers, but when he moved to tend his wound Sansa took the cloth from him. 

“Lay down,” she said softly, and he obeyed. 

This time Sansa stood, pulling on a robe, then she found her sewing kit and brought it with her back to the bed. He watched her adoringly as she cleaned his gash, then she removed the broken stitch with a small pair of scissors. 

Jon winced as she slid the rough thread free, and she rolled her eyes at him. “Relax,” she told him pointedly, and he blushed. 

When she finished he was good as new, and he was sure her careful stitching would hold. He smiled at her work and then lifted his eyes to her face, seeing her examine the injury with concern. 

“It was a shadowcat,” he explained as he pulled her back down into his arms. “Put up a good fight, but don’t worry, I won.”

Jon ran his hand over the pelt they were laying on to prove it. Sansa touched it too, then the white fur beside it. “And this?”

“Snow bear. It was sort of a team effort.” Sansa balked, and he quickly defended, “I had Tormund with me.”

She grimaced at him again, but his smirk broke her down and she smiled a bit. Then she sighed and nuzzled into his chest.

“I worry so much about you being up there,” she told him. “You might've defeated death once Jon, but you sure seem to enjoy pressing your luck for another try.” 

Jon stroked his fingers through her hair, but didn’t respond. Her words were making it so difficult not to beg her to take him home. 

“Tormund thought the hunt would be a good distraction,” he confessed. “I’m afraid I’ve been poor company without you.” 

She peered up at him and he kissed her frown. But then she sat up again and he saw tears in her eyes, so Jon sat up too, touching her back as she tried to hide them away.

“What is it, Sansa?”

“I’m sorry,” she excused, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, hey–” he lifted her chin with his hand, “whatever it is just talk to me.”

Sansa smiled, apologetic still, but then confessed the truth. 

“I know it’s selfish, Jon, but I just wish you would come home. I miss you so much when we’re apart.” Her tears continued to fall. “I’d give up my crown if I could, come be with you in your Kingdom, but I just can’t leave my people. I’m sorry, I know it’s hard for you too. I shouldn’t spoil the time we have with moping.” 

She laughed as she pushed away more tears, but her attempt to brush off the subject failed entirely.

“Sansa, I want to come home.” 

Jon blurted it out so fast, it was as if he’d been holding it in with his breath since she arrived. Sansa didn’t look at him at first, bracing herself for the ‘but’ soon to follow. 

When it didn’t come, she met his stare.

“I didn’t know you wanted me,” he revealed, “otherwise I would have stayed after that night by the weirwood.”

“But, your people–”

“The Free Folk can fare just fine without me. My role as King isn’t the same as yours, I’m there when they need me, as they are for me, but otherwise we just go about our lives.”

“Sounds nice,” she smiled as he brushed a tear from her chin. “I might change my mind about giving up my crown after all.”

He laughed and then kissed her, cradling her neck in his palm. Jon felt so relieved, so happy, his chest was near to bursting, but then two rough hands deflated him as she shoved him suddenly away. Jon stared at her, agape. 

“What do you mean you didn’t know I wanted you? Are you an idiot?” 

He almost smiled, but her face held no hint of anything but rage. He waited for her to yell something else, because she seemed completely on the brink of doing so, but then she pushed herself from the bed.

“Sansa,” he tried, shifting closer to where she’d decided to pace as her anger built.

“No, Jon.” It was a warning and he sat back, silent. “I’ve had enough of your absolute _bullshit_. What do I have to do? Tell me, Jon.”

He didn’t tell her anything because she was nowhere near done. 

“Tell me what it will take for you to accept that I love you, that I want you, that I don’t blame you or think less of you, or whatever it is that you believe.” 

Jon looked down, seemingly convicted, but then he returned his glare to her and she could see he was angry too. 

“Okay, you want me to accept all of that? Then tell the truth Sansa. You might not blame me for everything, but you do for some of it.” 

She was caught up short by this, completely. She had nothing to say. Jon nodded and then stood, pulling on his clothes as she stared at the floor and then he was gone. 

By the time she found him later that evening, she still hadn’t quite decided what she wanted to say, but she was determined to try. He was atop the Wall, standing beside a brazier as he looked out into the dark expanse of his lands. 

When he saw her come around the bend, his first instinct was to scold her for being up there where it isn’t safe, but her pout upon approach kept him quiet. 

Sansa nudged her way beneath his cloak and into his arms, and he pouted then too as he let her. “You don’t fight fair,” he accused as he pulled her close.

She snorted, “And you do?” 

He rubbed her back and kissed a smile into her hair. “Aye, I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” She sighed against his shoulder as he kept warming her with his body. But then his hands paused as she whispered, “I did blame you.” 

He still didn’t move, but he didn’t pull away either. She did though, stepping back to look at him as he tried to hide the hurt from his eyes. Sansa looked out over the Wall, into the land of people who were free. 

“You never listened to me,” she began, trying to sound as neutral as she could. “I told you it was dangerous. If you’d have just–”

“We needed her.”

“I know, but if you’d have just talked to me, trusted me…”

“What Sansa? What could we have done differently? Outsmarted her?”

“Maybe.”

He sneered. “Yes, well. I won’t deny you were smarter, you were right, like always.”

“I don’t care about being right, Jon. Not about this. I care about you expecting me to trust you blindly, even when I know you’re wrong, without ever doing the same for me.” 

“I trusted you, Sansa. I left the North with you.”

“Then _she_ came along and you gave it away.”

That was it. The crux of it, for both of them.

“Yes,” he growled, “and you gave me away.” 

Sansa watched him coldly, her face hardening as he flushed. “When are you going to forgive me for that, Jon?” 

“When are you going to forgive me?” 

It was right there. After all they’d been through, after coming together at last, after two becoming one in body and soul, this should be easy. All they had to do was say the words, be done with it and move on. But neither could.

Sansa broke first, moving around him to leave, but he grabbed her by the arm and she stopped. She kept her eyes on the icy floor as his grip tightened and his glare bore into her from the side. Then she whispered his name and he shoved her back against the Wall. 

“What are you doing?” she gasped as he pressed her arms back beside her head.

“I’ve sworn a lot of vows, Sansa, and most of them I’ve broken. The gods have damned me already, and even if they haven’t I know there is no hell.” 

He reached one hand between them and pulled roughly at her skirt. “Jon!” She looked around to see if anyone was coming, but he grabbed her jaw and forced her eyes back to him again. 

“You think I gave up the North for a wet cunt, Sansa?” He pushed his fingers into her and she moaned. “You’re angry because I fucked her?”

Sansa nodded defiantly and he pushed in harder, pressing his thumb against her clit. “Jon!” she begged.

“I did fuck her Sansa, I fucked her hard, every chance I could get.” He leaned close to her ear and growled, “I even fucked her in your castle.” 

She gushed around his fingers as her jealousy surged. His other hand started to untie his laces as Sansa felt a chill run through her. 

“But I didn’t give up North for her cunt. I took her cunt so I could give up _you_.” He entered her fast with the accusation and she seized around him. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, hating myself for how much I wanted you, how I dreamed of fucking you in your mother’s bed.”

Sansa released whimpering gasps as he rutted against her. Jon lifted both her legs around his waist and pressed her hard against the snowy wall, thrusting up into her as she clung to his neck. 

The slick of Sansa’s cunt poured down from her as fucked her beneath her skirts, their bodies only exposed to the cold where they were connected, but there was only burning heat there. His cloak covered them both from view, but if anyone passed by there would be no doubt as to what they were doing. 

“I swore to serve the Night’s Watch,” he grunted. “To take no wife, father no children. Now I’m fucking my pregnant wife on top of the Wall. Damn my vows. Damn my sins, and yours too. All the matters is you’re mine now, always, and I’m yours.” 

“Then _be_ mine, Jon! Gods, just come home. Fuck me in my castle, in my mother’s bed, in the great hall, whatever you want, just be with me!” 

He groaned and spilled inside her without warning, his apology and forgiveness both pouring into her at once, along with his promise to go home.


	8. Oak & Owl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa stop at a tavern on their way back to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait!

“Have you never been here before? It’s been open for over two years now.” 

Jon looked at the décor on the walls of the new tavern, the Oak & Owl, located about a day’s ride north of Winterfell. His eyes settled for a moment on an intricate tapestry, a large bear hide depicting scenes of war, stitched in leather and silk with such delicate beauty he half suspected Sansa made it until he saw one blaring inaccuracy. 

“No,” he answered as Sansa moved beside him. She saw what he saw, but Jon pointed it out all the same. “I never fought him.” 

The scene began with the dragon battle, then a fight on the ground between Jon and the Night King, and ended with the final defeat by Arya. 

“Let’s get settled in, Jon. It’s been a long day.” 

“Are you alright?” 

He touched her arm in concern, but she smiled back at him and nodded, alleviating him enough to recognize her deflection for what it was. Jon decided he would do what he could to prevent any brooding tonight and followed her to greet the inn keeper.

“Your Grace.” A woman at the front desk addressed Sansa with warm recognition as they approached. Her welcoming smile, returned by Sansa, became a blush as her eyes shifted to Jon. “Welcome back to The Oak and Owl.” 

“Good evening, Lady Wylla and thank you. This is Jon.” Sansa gestured to where Wylla’s glance was already fixed. 

“Of course,” she replied, reminding Jon and Sansa both that he was still as notorious as when he was King, probably more. Then Wylla finally returned to her task of retrieving the keys for their stay.

“We will only be requiring one room,” Sansa stated confidently and Jon restrained his surprise. 

Wylla handed the key to her and then bowed gently as they departed toward a chamber. There was no need for direction, as it was a designated royal suite built specifically in honor of Her Majesty, the establishment’s benefactor. 

“It’s a nice place,” Jon observed as they entered the candle lit chamber. “They must have been expecting you.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here, with all the trips you make back and forth.” Sansa set her gloves on a writing desk.

“I mostly just camp outside if I can. Besides, if I’m only a day’s ride away from you, I’m not stopping.” 

Jon pulled her into his arms from behind once she’d removed her cloak, and she relaxed against him, savoring the feel of his hands roaming her body. 

“I’m starving, Jon,” she complained as he turned her around to face him, still groping at her as his mouth traveled down her neck. 

“So am I.”

He pulled at her skirts in a hurry, nearly tearing her bodice with his teeth at the same time as he pawed for access to her body. Then he was on his knees, pressing her back against the desk as she flailed for something to hold onto. 

“Jon!” 

Sansa keened as his lips pressed to hers beneath her skirts. Her hands found purchase at last, one gripping the wooden ledge of the desk and the other clutching his hair. He ate her cunt so viciously, so impatiently, that she couldn’t even form another protest before she was coming in his mouth, loudly. 

“Seven hells, Jon.” She pushed him away with her foot as he smirked and she gathered her breath. Then, straightening her skirts, she glared at him. “I have to go have dinner with these people. They’re expecting it. Only now they’ve all just heard… well…”

“What?” 

He wanted her to say it, but instead she just rolled her eyes and checked her hair in the mirror. Then Jon did his best to fix himself, too, shifting his cock beneath his leathers. But, as they both made their way to the door, Sansa stopped him and pressed his back against the wood. 

“Sansa, what are you –” But then her hand was on his cock, gripping him hard beneath his trousers, and Jon groaned. 

“Shh…” she teased, and then he nearly wept as she dropped to her knees. 

“Oh fuck. What are you doing? What are you… Oh, fuck, _Sansa_ … AHH!”

Her lips pressed around him harder and she pulled him further down her throat. She thrust her head up and down, digging her nails into his hips as she held onto him and he clenched the hair at the back of her head. It was lewd and brutal, and soon Jon cried out in a savage roar as he shot his seed down her throat harder and quicker than he’d ever unleashed it before. She swallowed every drop – she had to – as he kept her face pressed to his groin until his balls stopped pulsing and he was finally able to let go of her hair. 

When she pulled away her face was red and her lips were swollen, her eyes glossed with strain. He held his breath for a moment, ashamed at how much he liked seeing her look like that, but then she smiled and stood, licking her lips like a wolf who’s just finished a kill. 

Jon kissed her and they both considered just staying in the room for the rest of the night, but then Sansa’s stomach growled, and so did Jon’s. And when they joined the cheerful patrons of the inn for supper in the dining room, Sansa’s pregnant appetite rivaled Jon’s as they both feasted and chatted happily with the people of the North. 

After the plates had been cleared, Jon found himself placing his hand casually atop Sansa’s on the table. The innkeeper sitting across from them noticed and smiled at Sansa. Jon tensed for a moment, wondering if he should move his hand, but then Sansa wrapped her hand around his in silent response to unspoken questions. 

Those around them didn’t seem surprised. In fact, they seemed relieved. The union of these two made sense, but a rift between them would have as well. It had been more than four years since Ned Stark’s daughter and the secret prince he raised parted ways. There had been four years for rumors and assumptions and gossip to spread far across the North. In all that time, the idea that the King in the North, the man they all chose to follow once, would have abandoned them and the Queen they adored… well, that had been a far sadder song than this. 

“I want to thank you again, your grace, for all you’ve done for me and my family.” Wylla lifted her cup to Sansa before taking a drink. 

“Really, there’s no need.” Sansa glanced at Jon who was as intrigued as she feared he would be.

“No, truly. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful we are, and I wanted you to know, Lary is doing just so much better.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, perhaps he’ll be well enough to join us for council meetings soon.”

The woman smiled, but sadly, and Jon thought he saw her bite the inside of her mouth a bit. Then Sansa reached across the table to take her hand.

“Soon enough,” she soothed, “but you must still come as well, of course. I always enjoy when you visit.” 

The woman perked up and winked at Sansa. Then she looked at Jon again, bowing her head a bit, and left to attend other guests of the Oak & Owl. 

“Who’s Lary,” Jon whispered to her as soon as he could.

“Her son.” The reply was vague and she knew it. She sighed, then added, “He’s the Lord of Hornwood now. Lord Halys’ bastard.”

Something connected with Jon then. “Larence Snow?” 

“Yes.”

His face fell as if he’d suddenly been possessed by a ghost. The room became a blur of noises and smells. Ale, meat, dirt, blood, the clatter of cups, the clang of swords, and it was too fucking hot. 

“Let’s go back to the room,” she whispered close to his ear. 

Her voice and her touch on his arm were all that could pull him to his feet just then. He didn’t remember moving, or walking down the hall, just that he was now sitting on the end of the bed and she was by his side. 

“I knew him,” he said finally.

“I know.”

“He was with me – he’d _been_ with me – I haven’t seen him since…”

“I know.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was burned.”

Jon’s head dropped into his hand then, his eyes closed and his body clenched against the coming storm of sharp and brutal memories. 

“How badly?” – “Jon.” – “How badly, Sansa.”

“He’s lost the use of his legs, and his face is quite scarred. But he’s strong, he has excellent care and he’s done a lot of good work as Lord of Hornwood.”

“Thanks to you.” Jon sighed painfully and she wrapped her arms around him. “So many have died following me, Sansa.”

“But so many more lived.” She placed a hand on his face and pulled his eyes up to hers. “Jon, you are strong enough to face this, to face what happened. I know it, and whatever happens I will be by your side.” 

He nodded and kissed her, then said, “I’d like to go see him.”

“We will.” 

She slowly began to undress him, unburden him of his thick, hard layers until he was only naked, soft skin. He lay back on the bed and watched as she then undressed herself, the sight of her body soothing him again. As she approached, climbing onto the bed above him, her silky hair brushed along his legs, then his chest. When she seated herself upon him, he groaned, his rigid cock seeking instant sanctuary inside of her warmth.

Sansa rocked her hips slowly, staring down at him as he watched her quietly. His eyes focused on her belly, swelling gently, swaying with her movements like a lullaby. His hands moved along her curving skin, up her hips and around her breasts. He pressed into her and pulled her closer until his lips tasted hers. 

Jon held her close and for a moment she stilled her movement, simply resting in his arms with him safely deep inside. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair. 

“Mmmm…” she moaned, her hips circling slowly again as his hands stroked up and down her back. “I love you, too, Jon.”

His touch moved from her back to her breasts and he gripped them with need as she arched herself back again. The sight of her above him was like a dream and yet he feared closing his eyes. He feared she _was_ a dream and that soon he would wake in some shabby hut far away from here, from her. He was afraid every moment that he would lose her, and there could be no greater hell. 

“Sansa,” he groaned. She thought it was in ecstasy that he said her name, but it was agony. “ _Sansa_ …” he cried again, lifting himself up to her, gripping her back as he trembled. 

He buried himself in her, his face pressed to her neck, his hands clutching her back, hidden beneath the cover of her hair. She stopped her rocking again when she felt him shaking, and tears starting trickling down her throat. 

“Please,” he whispered, he begged. 

Jon pulled her even closer, and she began to feel afraid. It wasn’t him she feared, but his fear pulsing into her as he shuddered and came. 

“It’s alright, Jon. I’m right here.” 

She traced her fingers gently through his hair, pressing her forehead to his as he remained tense and tight, his touch beginning to hurt where it clung to her skin. 

Her hands slipped softly to his shoulders and then down his arms where she pulled his hold from her, and his loosened arms fell limp to the bed. She kissed him again and lay him gently back as she moved to his side. 

For a while, Sansa just watched him. He stared at the ceiling as a steady, quiet stream flowed from his aching eyes and she watched. They weren’t even touching now, just the slightest space between them on the bed. She wanted to reach for him but knew he needed to be alone with this for now, for just a moment. 

Then, once he’d bled it all out, she gently told him what he needed to hear. “I know you don’t think of yourself as a hero, but let them.”

Jon closed his eyes, but he was listening. She knew that.

“Don’t take that away from them, don’t take it from him, from Larence, when you see him. They need it Jon, and they’ve lost too much already. Let them believe it was for a reason, even if that reason is you.” 

He sighed heavily and nodded. She moved closer, touching him again, and whispered, “You can give the rest to me.”


	9. The Lord's Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa are back at Winterfell. Though she continues to refuse to discuss marriage with the Northern Lords until she has been Queen for five years, it is apparent to everyone that Jon and Sansa are now lovers.

Jon awoke from his terrible dream, unsure at first where he was. It was still strange for him to be in the Lord’s Chamber of Winterfell, but when he looked around he found Sansa soaking in a bath and felt instantly at ease again. 

They’d been back for a few months, and by now he was starting to get used to the way things were. He’d participated in the council meetings and been out to visit some of the holdfasts and castles to oversee the reconstruction progress, though he still hadn’t been able to visit Larence Snow. All his requests to do so had been consistently met with delay due to the Lord of Hornwood’s poor health. 

He’d tried to argue that it didn’t matter to him what state the man was in, that perhaps he could even help, but Sansa had reminded Jon that if the man wanted to preserve his dignity in the face of his once leader, that was his right. And so, Jon left the issue in the hands of Lord Snow. 

Things were mostly hopeful in the North, but the issue of succession was still something the Northern Lords would bring up at meetings. Jon did what he could to keep his cool during these talks – he would never reveal Sansa’s pregnancy before she decided to, though he started to worry she wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer – but whenever marriage was suggested, Jon nearly always met the topic with threatening ire. However, Sansa would simply dismiss the topic with a reminder that she had agreed to discuss it once she’d been Queen for five years, of which she was still a few months shy.

Her long red hair swam along the surface of the water around her and she was humming softly to herself. He recognized the song as that of the one they’d heard together the first time he took her beyond the Wall. 

He sat up in bed, the furs falling to his waist, and the movement called her attention. Her eyes searched him with concern at first, but he smiled gently and she continued humming her tune. 

“Do you know what that song is about?” he asked as she dipped her fingers into the water. 

“I’m trying to remember the words,” she smiled. “I’d never heard it before.”

Jon rose from the bed and moved to her, sitting on the small bench beside her bath. He was still naked, but the fire in the hearth kept him warm and he rested his hand on her bent knee. 

“It’s about a Wildling bastard who became the Lord of Winterfell.” 

“Is it?”

Jon nodded and trailed his fingers down her thigh, and as he did she let her knees fall open, resting them on the sides of the tub. 

“Do you want to get in with me?”

“No, I just want to touch you, and watch you.” 

“Watch me?”

“Mm,” he kissed her gently and brushed his thumb across her clit, “you make the most amusing expressions when you come.”

“Oh, do I?” She smirked and splashed him a little, but then he pressed two thick fingers into her cunt and she took a deep breath. 

“You do.” 

Her back arched and her breasts lifted out of the water, droplets trickling down the slopes beneath her nipples. Jon dropped down to his knees beside the tub and bent forward to catch a drip on his tongue, then he traced his lick up until he gathered one of her pink tips into his mouth, sucking her into his lips and biting softly. His fingers slid in an out of her slick cunt as his thumb continued to press circles against her clit. 

Sansa moved one hand beneath the water and grabbed his wrist, holding on as he worked her into a frenzy. Water splashed over the side, spilling onto the floor, as she gripped the edge of the tub with her other hand. 

Jon moved his lips to her other nipple, taking her a bit more roughly, and Sansa moved her grip from the tub to the back of his head. He sucked harder, pulling the flesh of her breast further into his mouth as his tongue lashed at her nipple. Then he took her neglected breast into his empty hand and squeezed tightly as he slid a third finger inside of her hot, throbbing cunt. 

Her thighs started to convulse and she pressed her knees against the sides of the bath as hard as she could to try and keep herself from thrashing around. Jon released her nipple from his lips and moved them to her neck, biting hard, making her cry out his name. He sucked at her throat and behind her ear, then, as she started to lose her breath he brought his mouth to hers. 

Sansa reached for his tongue with hers, tasting him first, before his lips could touch her, swirling her tongue around his and sucking it between her lips. She was so vulgar in her lust for him, pulling on his wrist as he fucked her with his hand, her fingernails digging into his flesh beneath to water. 

Jon groaned when she tightened her grip on his hair, then he moved his own grip from her tit to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as she swallowed her cries in their consuming kiss. The strength of it caused her to drop her hand from his curls and she reached down beside the tub to find his cock. 

“Sansa,” he moaned into her mouth before pulling himself away from her lip entirely. “Oh, fuck… _Sansa_ …” 

Her hips lifted against his hand and she let go of his wrist, grabbing onto the side of the tub with one hand and violently stroking his erection with the other. Jon thrust into her hand and lifted up on his knees until his cock with level with the edge of her bath. To his surprise, she turned and leaned over to him, taking him into her mouth just as her legs slammed shut on his arm.

She nearly choked as she started to come, gyrating against his wrist and squeezing him inside of her. He pressed in further, stroking the tips of his fingers against her fleshy depths, agitating her stimulation and making her spasm even more. The vibration of her moaning cries around his cock caused him to push his hips, and he drove his tip down the back of her throat before pulling it almost entirely back out. 

Leaving only the head inside her lips, Jon stroked his cock and watched her suck desperately on him as the last jolting pulses of her orgasm assaulted her body. She was near tears now and just as he pulled his fingers slowly out of her cunt, relieving her at last so that her body might settle, he shoved his middle finger smoothly up her ass and began to come, spurting once, then twice into her mouth before she screamed, dropping him from her lips as another spurt shot to the back of her throat, choking back her cries in a gurgle. 

He continued to unload, pumping his cock as he fucked his thick finger into her tight, clenching hole. His seed spilled all over her, spraying onto her tits and throat, until finally Jon aimed his last few shots back at her gasping face. 

When it was over he just knelt there staring at her, his finger still inside, her eyes still closed, his fist still holding his cock by her face. He should have stopped, he should have pulled away, apologized maybe. Instead he just looked at her, covered in his seed, feeling her pulse and throb around him, knowing her heartbeat through her pain, and he twisted his finger inside of her. 

She hissed, sloshing the water as her hips rose against his intrusion, and the rest of her nearly submerged entirely before she sat up again, gasping. His cock jutted, still standing hard before her face. Her eyes opened and just at the tip of his cock began to drip anew, she touched it with her tongue, catching his precome and smearing it on her lips. 

“Fuck!” he roared, easing his finger out at last. Jon ran his hand possessively up her body, over her swollen belly, and breast, pinching her hard as he passed her nipple, then he pushed his hand up further until it circled around her neck and into the back of her hair. “Enough with these games, I need you, Sansa. Now.” 

Before she could say or do anything, he hooked one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her out of the tub in one swift motion, the water cascading down from her glistening body. Then he was across the room, laying her down on the bed, and he pushed her legs apart. 

Sansa’s wet hair tangled around her as she fell back against the furs, completely beholden to his whim. His mouth was on her cunt in a hurry and all she could do was lay back and endure it. Her belly had swollen to a size that made it more difficult for her to fight him off when he laid her back like this, and she could often be at his mercy for hours if his appetite demanded it. 

Sansa had rid herself of any attempts at keep her cries at a modest volume back when Jon had first started visiting her in Winterfell. Still, ever since he’d come to stay – and become Lord Commander of the Queen’s Guard – she’d truly been allowing the wolf in her to come out. 

They were openly affectionate with each other, to the degree it was appropriate for any married lieges to be amongst their subjects. Still, the fact remained that in the eyes of their subjects they were not married. Therefore, the general assumption was that the Queen had taken a lover, her cousin and their former King, and overall this remained unquestioned. 

Jon found it difficult to understand, as he’d witnessed such matters start wars his entire life, but like the patrons of The Oak & Owl, the Northerners mainly seemed delighted in their Queen’s happiness. Sometimes, when he’d let his armor slip just a little, Jon thought they seemed delighted for him as well. 

“Please,” she begged, “Jon take me, please.”

He tortured her clit with his tongue a moment longer, then finally lifted himself up onto the bed. He knelt before her, running his strong hands up her thighs, then aligned his cock with her entrance and pushed in. 

Sansa moaned in relief, feeling him fill her at last, and her aching cunt pulled him deeper as she lifted her hips against his. She brought her own hands to her breasts, squeezing them together and pinching the tips of her sensitive nipples.

The sight of her playing with her tits made Jon surge and he fucked her harder, slamming his cock into her savagely as he held her hips in his bruising grip. Her cunt was dripping and he could hear the wet skin slapping as his balls beat against her ass. He wanted her ass desperately, he was addicted to it, especially as it grew more round with her pregnancy as well. 

He slipped one hand down the back of her thigh and reached beneath her, gripping her fleshy cheek as he spread her open. She shifted a little to the side and his fingers dipped between her crevice. 

Sansa moaned again as he teased her hole while he continued to fuck her relentlessly. “Jon, I’m going to come!” 

“That’s it,” he roared. “Come for me my filthy girl, show me how much you love it when I play with your ass.” 

“Yes, Jon! Oh gods, I love it so much.” 

He pressed his finger into her tight hole and she exploded in a river around his cock as she came, screaming his name for the entire castle to hear, and ripping her fingernails down his chest. When her pulsing began to subside, Jon lifted one of her legs and turned her fully to her side, then settled himself at her back. His dripping cock slipped from her cunt and he held it in his hand as he teased up and down her slit from behind. 

“Do it,” she whispered, still catching her breath. She shifted her bottom against him in a way that left no doubt as to what she meant. “Jon, I want it.” 

He didn’t wait for any more instruction or permission. He simply brought his hand to his mouth and wet it, then spread the slick on her pucker and lined up his cock. Jon held her hip gently with one hand, and his cock in a tight restrain with the other, then he eased her back onto him, letting her open to him at her own pace. 

Sansa was practiced by now, but the fullness she felt and the sound he made in her ear as he entered her like this still took her breath away. He pulled back when he was halfway in, and that was her favorite part, then he filled her completely. This act made her feel savage and strangely safe, knowing Jon would always be careful with her even when he’s at his most brutal. 

He started to thrust, rocking against her slowly at first, and his hand moved from her hip to her breasts. He teased her nipples, moving back and forth between the two, lightly brushing and gently pinching, causing her to rock herself back against him in longer, harder strokes. 

Then he lifted his hand from her tits to her neck, pressing down against her throat just hard enough to tilt her head back so that he could pull her ear between his teeth. 

“Sansa,” he rasped frighteningly, “you’re driving me mad, I think. Why do you let me defile you like this, my Queen? My filthy, savage wolf.” 

“Because I need it, my King. You’ve ruined me and now I need it desperately.” She reached back and wrapped her fingers in his hair pulling him even close. “Oh Jon, I want you to fill me with your seed. I want to feel it inside me.” 

He slid his hand back down her body, holding her round belly in a soft caress as he started to pound her harder. Then he reached lower and pushed his hand between her thighs, spreading her legs so that one draped across his and then he pressed his fingers against her cunt.

Sansa cried out again, ripping some of his hair from his head as she held on in a desperate grip. Her cunt started to pulse and she wasn’t sure if she could take another orgasm, but then he slammed his hips against her ass and stilled, and when the first pulse of his release shot deep within her she began to come apart on his fingers again. 

Then both held onto each other, wherever they could, and they both released savage howls as their bodies pumped and spurted, until they collapsed in a heap of sweating, gasping exhaustion. 

Jon eased his cock from her and then wrapped his arms around her, pressing his panting lips against her back. He nuzzled against her hair, no longer wet from the bath but damp with sweat. The cool air drifted over their bodies, soothing the heat of their passion, and Jon felt Sansa tremble a little. 

He pulled the furs over their hips and then held her closer, bringing his hand instinctively down to her stomach. Sansa sighed, smiling, and placed her hand over his. Then, just as she felt she might fall asleep, she whispered, “I’m so happy, Jon.” 

“That’s all I want, Sansa.” He kissed her neck. “My love, that’s all I’ll ever wanted.” 

“Thank you, Jon.” 

She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it softly, before bringing it to back down to her belly. Then, just as his touch returned, they both felt her belly shift in a strange roll. Jon sat up, concerned at first, but Sansa simply gasped in surprise. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she assured him, but remained focused on where she felt it to be sure. 

Sansa gasped again, and laughed a little, then pulled Jon’s hand to the side of her stomach where he felt something gentle press back against him. He gasped now, too, then smiled. The little thing pushed against him again and Jon looked at Sansa, who’s eyes were filling with tears, but then his own eyes blurred and he realized he was crying, too. 

Jon kissed her, keeping his hand against the little movement, and they spent the rest of the morning in bed, making love and telling stories to their little Wildling as it stretched and rolled beneath their touch.


End file.
